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“Without waiting for permission 
he turned his back and left the room.” 


(page 183.) 




\ 


7164 


Copyright, 1868, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY* 


Copyright, 1898, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Eugene of Savoy, the fifth and youngest son of Prince 
Eugene Maurice of Savoy-Carignan, Count of Soissons, and 
of Mazarin's niece Olympia Mancini, was born at Paris on 
October 18, 1663. At the age of ten he lost his father, and 
thereafter was neglected by his mother, who finally had to 
flee from Paris, as set forth in the opening pages of this story. 
Prince Eugene had been destined for the Church, but prayed 
Louis XIV for a commission in the army. When this was 
contemptuously refused him he followed his elder brother 
Louis to Austria in 1683, and took service as a cavalry officer. 
The author follows closely the events of the early years of 
his career — the fight at Petronell, where his brother fell, and 
the part he took in Sobieski’s campaign for the relief of 
Vienna, and in Charles of Lorraine’s campaign against the 
Turks, notably at the capture of Buda and the battle of Mo- 
hacs (1687). For six years Eugene served the emperor in 
Italy against the French, was made field-marshal in 1693, and 
four years later won in that capacity the great battle of Zenta 
against the Turks, which forced the Sultan to the Peace of 
Carlowicz (1699), which acknowledged Austria’s supremacy 
in Hungary and Siebenburgen. 

Meanwhile the War of the Spanish Succession had broken 
out (1697), and in 1701 Prince Eugene crossed the Alps — a 
march as celebrated as that of Hannibal before him and of 
Napoleon after him — entered northern Italy, defeated the 
French at Carpi and Chiari, and held at bay the much larger 
army of Vendome. Louis XIV having fostered a rebellion 
in Hungary, Eugene was called to Vienna, in 1703, where the 

iii 


IV 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


emperor made him President of the Council of War, and em- 
ployed his great diplomatic gifts as well as his military genius. 
The French, meanwhile, though victorious in Germany, had 
been defeated repeatedly in the Netherlands by Marlborough, 
who marched toward the Danube, and, together with Prince 
Eugene, who had hastened back from Hungary with his 
troops, inflicted at Blenheim upon the French invaders the 
crushing defeat that sent them flying back to the Rhine 
(August 13, 1704). Eugene then turned again to Italy, and in 
1706 drove the French entirely from its territories. At the bat- 
tle of Turin (September 7, 1706), the Prussian troops under 
Prince Leopold of Dessau distinguished themselves particu- 
larly. In 1708 Prince Eugene, again united with Marlbor- 
ough, won the victory of Oudenarde and took Lille, while on 
September 11th of the following year the two commanders de- 
feated Marshal Villars at Malplaquet. France was utterly 
exhausted and sued for peace on the most humiliating terms, 
which were rejected by the allies. Then Marlborough’s wife 
fell in disgrace, Queen Anne recalled him, and England be- 
gan secret negotiations for peace. In 1711 the Emperor Jo- 
seph I died, and was succeeded by the pretender to the Span- 
ish crown, Archduke Charles, whereupon Holland, afraid 
that the union of Spain and Austria would disturb the balance 
of power, gradually gave up the war. Prince Eugene won a 
series of successes in France in the following year, but was 
finally forced to retreat by Marshal Villars, who cut off his 
supplies. The Peace of Utrecht (1713) practically put an end 
to the War of the Spanish Succession, though the Emperor 
Charles rejected its terms. Prince Eugene tried to carry on 
the war along the upper Rhine, but was unable to cope, with- 
out assistance, with France’s superior forces. Finally, on 
March 7, 1714, he and Marshal Villars, his great opponent, 
concluded peace at Rastadt for their respective rulers. 

In 1716 war with Turkey broke out again. Prince Eugene 
won the battle of Peter wardein and took Temesvar in that 
year, and in 1717 Belgrade — an event that was celebrated in a 
popular song which is generally heard in Germany and Aus- 
tria even at the present day. After concluding the Peace of 
Passarowitz, Eugene returned to Vienna, where he held the 


INTRODUCTION. 


Y 


first place among the emperor’s advisers. To the last he took 
a deep and active interest in architecture, art, and science, 
and stood in constant correspondence with the leading scien- 
tists and thinkers of Europe. He took the field once again in 
1734, against the French, but with entirely insufficient forces. 
His advice was followed in the following year, and peace re- 
stored. On April 21, 1736, Prince Eugene of Savoy was found 
dead in bed. 

The “ little abbe,” to whom Louis XIV sneeringly had re- 
fused a place in his army, became one of his most powerful 
enemies, and one of the greatest commanders of his age. 
Like Marlborough, the man with whom he was most closely 
allied in military affairs, Prince Eugene was a great states- 
man as well as a great soldier ; but, unlike the English com- 
mander, he was personally honest, pure of mind and life, and 
noble of character. He was the greatest soldier Austria ever 
possessed, and by far her greatest statesman, and he achieved 
more for his adopted country than any of her own children 
ever accomplished. His reckless personal courage, even more 
than his leadership, made him an almost legendary figure in 
the eyes of the German people ; and, as already said, his name 
lives to this day in legend and folk-song. 

Leopold I, as second son originally destined for the Church, 
and educated by the Jesuits, was sincerely a man of peace. 
Yet his long reign (1658-1705) was an almost unbroken suc- 
cession of wars. His character, with its piety, jealousy of his 
power and suspicion of his advisers, is well set forth by the 
author, who has succeeded also in doing ample justice to 
Duke Charles of Lorraine, Count Starhemberg, the defender 
of Vienna against the Turks, and, above all, to Sobieski, whom 
the emperor treated with such scant courtesy after he had 
saved his realm. 

That Louis XIV was unaware of the atrocities committed 
in his name by the French troops in the Palatinate is unques- 
tionably true. The order was given by Louvois, and was the 
direct cause of that minister’s fall. The author brings out 
sharply the enmity between Madame de Maintenon and the 
powerful war minister, who had bitterly opposed Louis’s 
marriage to her, and succeeded in keeping the king from pub- 


VI 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


licly acknowledging her as his wife. It was she, rather than 
the Duchess of Orleans, who drew Louis’s attention to the dev- 
astation of the Rhine country by his troops, and thus brought 
about Louvois’s fall from power. The account of his death is 
historically exact, except in so far as the appearance of the 
Comtesse de Soissons is concerned. This, however, is a legiti- 
mate dramatic climax employed with rare effect by the ac- 
complished author. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK I. 

CHAPTER 

PAGE 

I. — The Countess of Soissons 

1 

II. — The Laboratory 

5 

III. — Prince Eugene 

12 

IV. — The Riot 

. 23 

V. — Barbesieur Louvois . 

34 

VI. — The State Reception 

43 

VII. — Help in Time of Need . 

52 

VIII.— The Flight .... 

61 

IX. — The Parting .... 

71 


BOOK II. 


I. — Marianna Mancini 84 

II.— The Trial 90 

III. — A Skirmish 99 

IV. — Louvois’ Daughter 109 

Y. — The Court-Ball 119 

YI. — The Lady of the Bedchamber 126 

VII. — The Lady of the Bedchamber 138 

VIII. — First Love 146 

IX. — The Betrayal 156 


BOOK III. 


I. — The Disappointment 162 

II.— The Foes 170 

III. — The Repulse 175 

vii 


CONTENTS. 


viii 

CHAPTER 

IV. — The Farewell . 

V. — A Page from History 

VI. — The Emperor Leopold I 

VII. — The Council of War 

VIII. — The Plains of Kitsee 

IX. — The Baptism of Blood 

X. — Vienna 

XI. — The Re-enforcements 


PAGE 

. 184 
. 188 
. 192 
. 197 
. 207 
. 217 
. 227 
. 233 


BOOK IV. 


I.— The Fall of Buda 244 

II.— The Friends 253 

III. — The Marquis Strozzi 266 

IV. — Laura 275 

V. — The Regatta 284 

VI. — The Negotiator 299 

VII. — The Lovers reunited 311 

VIII. — Antonio’s Expiation 322 

IX. — The Dungeon . . 325 

BOOK V. 

I. — A Twofold Victory 331 

II. — The Dumb Music 342 

III. — The Retirement of the Commander-in-Chief . . 347 

IV. — The Fall of Belgrade 356 

V. — The Marchioness 364 

VI. — The Flight 374 

VII. — The Forester’s Hut 380 

BOOK VI. 

I. — Sister Angelica 386 

II. — Louis the Fourteenth 394 

III. — The King and the Petitioners 401 

IV. — The Window that was too large 407 

V. — The Imperial Diet at Regensburg . . . .415 

VI. — The Judith of Esslingen 424 

VII. — Her Return 432 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


BOOK VII. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — The Island of Bliss 436 

II. — The French in Speier 440 

III. — The Treasure 446 

IV. — Caspar’s Vengeance 451 

V. — The Duchess of Orleans 454 

VI. — The Deliverance of Trier 458 

VII. — The Fire- tongs 466 

VIII. — Brave Hearts . 471 

BOOK VIII. 

I. — The Advance into France 480 

II. — The Ravens 485 

III. — Sick and Well 498 

IV. — The Duke’s Dangerous Illness 499 

V. — The Marquis Strozzi 508 

VI. — Insanity and Revenge 512 

VII. — The Ambrosia 521 

VIII. — The Betrothal 580 

IX. — Vengeance 539 

































































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PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


BOOK I. 

PRINCE EUGENE , THE LITTLE ABBE \ 


CHAPTER I. 

THE COUNTESS OF SOISSONS. 

“ Is that your last word, madame ? ” said Louvois, in a tone 
so emphatic as to be almost threatening. 

“ My last word,” replied the countess, haughtily. “ My 
daughter is too young to marry, and were she older, I would 
not impose a husband upon her who was not the man of her 
choice. She shall bestow her hand and heart together.” 

“ Do you mean that it is impossible for your daughter to 
love* my son ? ” asked Louvois, hastily. 

The countess raised her shoulders and smiled superciliously, 
while from her large black eyes there darted forth a glance 
that spoke volumes to the mind of the irritated minister. 

“ It would appear,” said she, “ that there can be no sympa- 
thy between the Mancinis and the Louvois, and that their an- 
tipathies are to be perpetuated from generation to generation.” 

“You would remind me of the similarity which the fate of 
my son as a wooer hears to that of his father ? ” asked Louvois. 
“ I do not deny it ; the repulse which twenty-one years ago I 
received from Olympia Mancini, she repeats to-day in the per- 
son of her daughter. But it may be that on some other occa- 
sion the Mancinis shall be repulsed by the Louvois.” 

“ A threat ? ” said the countess, angrily. 

Now it was the shoulders of the minister that were raised. 
“ I have sowed love and reaped hate,” said he, quietly. 

0) 


2 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The countess laughed. “ Ah,” said she, “ I see that you 
have remodelled your speech according to the pious formulary 
of Madame de Maintenon, and that you seek for your trouba- 
dours among the prophets.” 

“Yes — the Scriptural prophets satisfy my cravings for 
knowledge,” replied Louvois, smiling. “ Pity that everybody 
else is not as orthodox as I ! ” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the countess, uneasily. 

“ I mean that it would be better for the Countess de Sois- 
sons if she imitated the discretion of Madame de Maintenon, 
and eschewed association with those unholy prophets who 
draw their inspiration from the stars.” 

“ Do you think so ? And yet the book of the stars is in- 
spired and contains truth, for therein it stands written that our 
two families will never be united by the bonds of love. What 
is the use of striving against destiny ? Fate has willed our 
enmity, and we must submit with resignation,” said the count- 
ess, with an affected drawl. “ You see,” added she, pathetic- 
ally, •“ how beautifully I fall into your new-fashioned dialect, 
and how harmoniously my dulcet notes mingle with those of 
the court chorus.” 

“ I remember the dulcet notes of a poem written years ago, 
which were wont to edify the court with a strain that would 
sound inharmonious there to-day. What would De Montes- 
pan and De Maintenon say to such discordant lines as these ? ” 
And Louvois began to hum the following : 

“ La belle Olympe n’a point de seconde, 

Et l’Amour a bien reuni 
Dedans l’infante Mancini 
Par un avantage supreme 
Tout ce qui force a dire : J’aime ! 

Et qui l’a fait dire a nos dieux ! ” * 

“What they would say?” replied the countess; “why, 
they would listen approvingly to a rhapsody which time has 
falsified, and imagine that I wince to hear it sung. But they 
would be in error. I thank you for recalling to my mind the 
golden vision of the past, wherein a king knelt at my feet, and 

* “Les Nieces de Mazarion,” par Renee, p. 177. 


THE COUNTESS OF SOISSONS. 


3 


Louvois lived upon my smiles. She who can look back upon 
conquests such as these, can afford to despise the contrarieties 
of the present, while she plumes her victorious wings for fu- 
ture flight, wherein she shall attain indemnification for the 
trifling vexations of to-day.” 

“ I wish you may realize your joyous anticipations,” replied 
Louvois, with a sneer. “But if you will allow me to draw 
your horoscope, you will confess that I am a wiser seer than 
your dear friend La Voisin.” 

For one moment the features of the countess contracted 
painfully, but she mastered her emotion and was able to reply 
with a tranquil smile, — “ Do so, your excellency, I am all at- 
tention.” 

“ I read in the stars that snares encompass you, Countess de 
Soissons. You have enemies, numerous, powerful, and crafty. 
At their head stands the queen, who can never forgive you for 
having opened one of her letters, and having stolen thence a 
note addressed to the king, which accused her of secret machi- 
nations with Spain. Then there is poor Louise de la Valliere, 
who for your cruel sarcasms shed such oceans of tears — ” 

“ She is in a convent.” 

“True, but the scars of your persecutions are upon her 
heart; and although she may be a Christian, think you that 
she has ceased to be a woman ? Third — among the number of 
those who hate you is the Marquise de Montespan, to whom 
the brilliant assemblages at the Hotel de Soissons are a source 
of mortification, for she can never forget that, on more than 
one occasion, the king has forgotten his rendezvous with her, 
to linger at the side of his fascinating hostess. And we must 
not overlook the pious De Maintenon, who lives in constant 
terror lest some day or other your presence should recall to 
the king that golden vision of his youth, whereof Olympia 
Mancini was the enshrined divinity. For this reason you are 
more obnoxious to the ex-governess than De Montespan her- 
self. The star of the latter favorite is already on the wane, 
whereas yours may rise again at the bidding of Memory. 
These four women have long meditated your destruction, and 
many are the thorns with which they have strewed your path 
in life. But, to compass your ruin, there was wanting one 


4 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


strong arm that could concentrate their scattered missiles, 
and hurl them in one great bomb at your head. Countess de 
Soissons, that arm is mine — I, Louvois, the trusted minister of 
the king, the friend of De Maintenon, the mightiest subject in 
France — I am the man whose arm shall strike on behalf of 
your enemies, of whom in me behold the chief ! You have 
thrown me your gauntlet, and I raise it. I proclaim myself 
your foe, and since there must be war between our races, we 
shall see whether for the future the Mancinis may not be made 
to suffer through the Louvois ! This is my horoscope, and now 
mark well my last words: La Voisin the soothsayer was ar- 
rested last night.” 

All the self-control which she could gather to meet this 
sinister disclosure, could not smother the groan which was up- 
heaved from Olympia’s sinking heart. 

Louvois affected not to hear it. He bowed low and pre- 
pared to take his leave. The countess made no effort to de- 
tain him; she was too frightened for circumspection, and she 
followed his retreating figure with eyes that were all aflame 
with hate. Nor did their fiery glow abate when, having 
reached the door, Louvois turned and confronted her. 

He surveyed her calmly, but his eye returned hate for hate, 
and so for a moment they stared at each other, while there 
passed between the two a silent challenge, which both felt was 
to be fought out to the death. 

After a pause Louvois spoke. His mouth dilated with a 
cruel smile, which, when its mocking light was seen, beto- 
kened peril to those who offended him. 

“ Madame,” said he, “not only has La Voisin been arrested, 
but her private papers have been seized.” So saying, he bowed 
again and disappeared behind the portiere. 


THE LABORATORY. 


5 


CHAPTER II. 

THE LABORATORY. 

The countess listened to his echoing footsteps until they 
were no longer audible, nor did she move until she heard the 
roll of the carriage which bore him away. 

Gradually the sound of the receding vehicle melted into 
distance, and a deep silence ensued. This silence first roused 
the countess from her lethargy. A tremor convulsed her 
limbs ; her dilated orbs which had been fixed upon the door 
relaxed, and wandered from the silken hangings of the walls 
to the gilded furniture around her ; from the tables of Flor- 
entine marble to the rainbow-tinted chandeliers, whose 
pendants swayed to and fro in the sunshine. And now 
they rested dreamily upon a picture which, conspicuous 
for size and beauty, hung immediately opposite to the sofa 
whereon she was reclining. It was the full length por- 
trait of a handsome youth. He was not tall, but he was 
gracefully proportioned. His shoulders were broad; and, 
rising from the midst of a slender throat, adorned with 
a fall of lace, appeared his stately head crowned with a 
wealth of long, brown curls. His face was of a beautiful 
oval, his complexion clear, his mouth wreathed with happy 
smiles. The brow was high and arched, and the fine gray 
eyes beamed with hope and energy. In one hand he held 
a rose, which he extended to a person not represented in 
the picture; the other hand, half- veiled by its overhanging 
fall of gossamer lace, rested carelessly on the table, while 
close by lay two rose-buds, which seemed just to have been 
dropped from the half-open fingers. Over an arm-chair in 
the background was thrown a mantle of royal ermine, which 
partially concealed the kingly crown that surmounted its 
high carved back. 

The eyes of the countess were fixed upon this picture with 
an expression of tender sadness, and slowly, as if yielding to 
an influence altogether objective, she rose from her seat and 
advanced toward the portrait, where she remained gazing 


6 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


until her sight was dimmed by tears, while the youth smiled 
ever, and ever held out the rose. 

What golden tribute had his homage brought to her am- 
bition! What ecstasy had it poured into her heart! How 
truly had she loved that princely boy, who, careless, happy, 
and fickle, was bestowing upon other women the roses which 
for her had withered years ago, leaving upon their blighted 
stems the sharp and cruel thorns of his inconstancy ! 

Since then, twenty-three years had gone by; she had be- 
come a wife and the mother of seven children, but the wound 
still festered ; the old sorrow still sang its mournful dirge with- 
in a heart which to-day beat as wildly as ever, and felt a pang 
as keen as when it first grew jealous, and learned that not she, 
but Marie, had become the divinity whom Louis worshipped. 

Marie, too, had been forsaken, and had stifled the cries of 
her despairing heart by marriage with another. The fate of 
both sisters had been the same — a short dream of gratified am- 
bition, followed by long years of humiliation. It seemed that 
the prosperity and happiness of Cardinal Mazarin’s nieces had 
been coexistent with his life, for when the eyes of their uncle 
closed in death, the light of their fortunes grew dim and ex- 
pired. 

The portrait of Louis XIV., which was calling up the spec- 
tres of so many buried joys, had been painted expressly for 
Olympia Mancini. It represented his first declaration of love 
to her, and had been sent as a souvenir of “ the brightest hour 
of his life. ” He had barely reached his thirty-seventh year, 
and yet this winsome youth had been transformed into a de- 
mure devotee, who, despising the vanities of the world, had 
turned his heart toward heaven, and spent his life doing pen- 
ance for the sins of his early manhood! 

And this transformation was the work of a woman who 
had neither beauty, youth, nor birth to recommend her to the 
favor of a monarch— a woman who had been the paid govern- 
ess of the king’s bastards, and was not even gifted with intel- 
lect enough to cover her other deficiencies ! 

These last thoughts brought a smile to the face of the 
countess. Turning suddenly away from the portrait she 
crossed the room with rapid steps, and placed herself directly 


THE LABORATORY. 


7 


in front of a large Venetian mirror which occupied the space 
between two windows. It gave back the reflection of an ex- 
quisite figure, whose outlines contributed much to the grace 
with which the folds of a blue satin dress fell in rich profusion 
around it. The white shoulders were scarcely concealed by a 
shawl of superb lace, and the arms, still round, were set off by 
costly bracelets. The raven hair, with not a trace of time’s 
finger to discolor its glossy blackness, fell around her face in 
curls as delicate as the tendrils of a grape. Her brow was 
smooth and polished, her eyes aglow with passionate longing, 
and, as her lips curved into a complacent smile, they disclosed 
two rows of pearly teeth, compact and without a fleck. 

Yes, she was not deceived. Olympia de Soissons was a 
handsome woman, and with so much comeliness, such ready 
wit, and such unrivalled powers of conversation, she might 
gird up her loins to do battle with her rivals. Was not Madame 
de Maintenon her elder by three years? And as for De Montes- 
pan, was she not wasting away into an old woman? If they 
hack found it possible to win the heart of this sensual Louis, 
why not she ? This heart had once been all her own, and why 
should not she, who combined the beauty of one mistress with 
the shrewdness of the other, dispossess them both, and re-enter 
into possession of her old domains ? 

She smiled again, and saw how well her smiles became 
her. “Yes,” said she to herself, “yes, I will recall this truant 
merlin, and he shall return to perch upon the hand he used to 
love ! I will be mistress of his heart and mistress of his realms. 
She foretold it all, and gave me the charm wherewith to work 
the spell.” 

But as she gave utterance to these last words, her lips began 
to quiver, and her fine features were distorted by some sudden 
pain. She had just called to mind the fearful intelligence of 
La Voisin’s arrest. 

“ Great God ! If my letters should have been found among 
her papers ! What, oh what would be my fate ? ” 

She shuddered — and in place of the triumphant vision of a 
heart recaptured, a monarch at her feet, there arose the fear- 
ful spectacle of an execution which, four years before, she had 
witnessed at the bloody Place de Greve. Once more she saw 


8 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the square, black with a mass of human beings, who, jeering, 
shouting, and cursing, moved hither and thither like the waves 
of a turbulent ocean ; at every window that looked out upon 
the place, she saw gayly-dressed ladies who peered anxiously 
out to catch a glimpse of one gloomy object that loomed 
darkly up from its centre. She saw the crowd give way and 
part, as, keeping pace with the dull sound of a muffled drum, 
a sad procession entered upon the scene. At its head marched 
a battalion of soldiers, and behind them, seated in the felon’s 
cart, came a pale, beautiful woman, who ever and anon pressed 
to her quivering lips the crucifix held out to her by a priest 
— that last link of sympathy between the convict and his fel- 
low-creatures. At the criminal’s side, in symbolic robes of san- 
guinary red, was the executioner that was to sever this slender 
tie, and wrench the spirit from the body to whose guardian- 
ship God had committed it on earth. Silently the hideous 
cortege moved on, while the crowd fell back to let it pass, until 
the scatfold came to view. How joyously the sun’s rays 
seemed to play around the glittering axe that was to end a 
career of secret crime ! How eagerly the high-born dames 
bend forward to catch sight of the criminal, as, leaning on the 
arm of the priest, she tottered to her doom ! Olympia remem- 
bered only too well the moment when the drum ceased its 
“ discordant sound,” and w r hen the silence was so oppressive 
that the low voice of the condemned was heard uttering her 
last prayer. She knelt beside the block — a circle of light was 
described upon the air— and the head fell upon the blood-be- 
sprinkled sand. 

The Countess de Soissons sickened as she remembered that 
the woman whom she had seen executed was one of high po- 
sition, no less a personage than the beautiful and fascinating 
Marquise de Brinvilliers. Neither her rank, her charms, nor 
the strenuous efforts of her powerful friends, had been ade- 
quate to save her from the headsman’s axe. She had been 
convicted of poisoning, and had shared the fate of other male- 
factors of less repute. Her confidante La Yoisin had been 
arrested at the time, but as nothing proved her to have been an 
accomplice of her former mistress she had escaped conviction. 

Something new with regard to the fortune-teller must have 


THE LABORATORY. 


9 


transpired, for Louvois had considered her arrest as an ill- 
omen for the Countess de Soissons. Not only for Olympia, 
however, was the arrest of Catherine a calamity, for she was 
the trusty counsellor of many a noble lady who, before sus- 
picion had sullied her name, had been the dear and intimate 
associate of the Marquise de Brinvilliers. 

The countess had turned away from the contemplation of 
her mellow charms, and was on her way to her boudoir. She 
bolted the door within, and, crossing the room, mounted a 
chair that stood by the side of a tall mirror set in a thick gilt 
frame. She touched a spring, when the mirror glided noise- 
lessly aside, revealing a dark recess within the wall. 

Olympia slipped through the opening, which closed behind 
her, darted up a narrow staircase, and, hastily drawing a key 
from a pocket concealed within the folds of her dress, she un- 
locked the door of a room whose aspect was anything but ap- 
propriate to the pursuits of a lady of quality. 

It was to all appearances a kitchen, for one entire side of it 
was occupied by a hearth full of recesses, each one of which 
contained a furnace fitted up with iron utensils for cooking. 
On the mantel, which corresponded to this immense hearth, 
were ranged pipkins and other vessels of different sizes, inter- 
spersed with rows of phials and flasks containing liquids of 
every imaginable color. On a massive oaken table, in the 
centre of the apartment, were placed a number of bowls and 
dishes, and near them lay a disorderly pile of papers, books, 
and pamphlets. 

Olympia approached the hearth, stooped over one of the 
furnaces, and from a fagot lying near gathered a few small 
sticks. Over these sticks she poured a fluid from one of her 
flasks, and then rubbing them briskly together, they began to 
emit sparks. She placed them under the furnace, added a lit- 
tle more fuel, and in a few moments had a good fire. 

She now sprang to her feet, and hastily pushing aside a 
row of pipkins, opened a small door which had been concealed 
behind them, above the mantel. From a recess within the 
wall she took a brass-bound casket, which she placed upon the 
table. 

The casket contained some books, papers, and several di- 
2 


10 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


minutive phials. One of these phials she held up to the light, 
contemplating its contents with manifest satisfaction. 

“ Herein lies the spell that is to lure my faithless monarch 
hack again. La Voisin may rot in prison, but her mantle of 
science has fallen upon me, and her secrets are mine. Her 
last, best gift shall restore me to my throne. Not only did she 
leave me the means of success, but she foretold the certainty 
of that success besides. It must be so: La Yoisin never erred 
in her predictions, and I shall triumph ! ” 

Pressing the phial to her lips, Olympia hid it beneath the 
folds of her lace tucker, murmuring the while, “I shall sip of 
this nectar anon; for the present, I must provide for dis- 
covery.” 

She took the papers that lay in the casket, and weighing 
them in her hand said musingly: 

“ How light they are, and yet how heavy was the gold with 
which I purchased them! ’Tis a pity they should be de- 
stroyed : what if I should forget ? But no ! oblivion of their 
treasured secrets were impossible to me ; so away with you ! 
You might turn traitors, and I had best anticipate treachery by 
destruction.” 

Then followed the books and the contents of the phials re- 
maining in the casket. The blue flames leaped high as these 
last were added to the cremation, and the room became op- 
pressive with their unwholesome vapor. 

“ The window must be opened,” said Olympia. “ This odor 
might betray me. People might suspect me of having cooked 
arsenic in my kitchen instead of onions.” 

With these words she opened the casement, and the nox- 
ious cloud passed slowly out into the air. 

“ Now all is safe. Louvois can send as many bailiffs as he 
lists, and should they poke their inquisitive noses into my 
sanctum, they will find nothing for their pains but an innocent 
laboratory wherein the Countess de Soissons prepares her 
cosmetics, and makes experiments in the chemistry of the 
toilet.” 

She replaced her casket, searched the mantel carefully, and 
then glanced sharply around the room to assure herself that 
she was alone and undiscovered. 


THE LABORATORY. 


11 


Yes! Alone, the witnesses of her guilt consumed, and 
their ashes etherealized throughout space. 

The countess smiled, and, as she locked the door of her 
laboratory, her spirits revived and her thoughts once more re- 
verted to the ambitious dreams of the morning. When she 
had reached her boudoir again, and the complaisant mirror 
had resumed its place, she drew the flask from her bosom, re- 
moved the glass stopper, inhaled for a moment its perfume, 
and then, raising it to her lips, drained the contents to their 
last drop. 

“And this philter is to make me mistress of your heart, 
King Louis ! How I long to begin my reign! ” 

A slight rustling was heard outside, and the guilty woman 
trembled anew. She concealed the phial, and listened breath- 
lessly, while her straining eyes were fixed upon the door as 
though they had hoped to see through its panels of oak 
whether friend or foe stood without. 

A slight knock was heard, and now, in spite of herself, the 
Countess de Soissons grew pale and shivered. What if the 
myrmidons of Louvois had come with a lettre de cachet! 
What if— No ! not even he would go so far in his enmity to 
the niece of the great cardinal, the relative of the reigning 
Duke of Savoy, and the daughter-in-law of the Princess Ca- 
rignan. 

So she summoned resolution enough to cross the room, 
draw back the bolt, and to say in a loud, imperious tone : 
“Come in.” 

The door opened, and admitted a young man. The count- 
ess no sooner recognized him than she smiled, and, with a 
slight elevation of her shoulders, said, “Nobody but you.” 

“Nobody but me,” replied the youth, sadly. “I come to 
ask of my gracious mother an interview.” 


12 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER III. 

PRINCE EUGENE. 

The countess inclined her head in token of assent ; but, as 
she did so, her eyes rested on the diminutive form of her son 
with an expression that savored of disdain. The look was un- 
motherly, and seemed to say, “ How can a man of such insig- 
nificant appearance be the son of the stately Countess de Sois- 
sons ? ” 

And indeed to a careless observer the words were not inap- 
propriate to his dwarfish proportions. His head, which, be- 
tween his excessively wide shoulders, was perched upon the 
top of a very long neck, was too large, much too large for his 
body. His face was narrow, his complexion swarthy, his sal- 
low cheeks high and sunken. A nose slightly turned up, gave 
an expression of boldness to his countenance, increased by the 
shortness of his upper lip, which exposed to view two large front 
teeth that were almost ferocious in their size. On either side 
of his high, narrow forehead, his hair, instead of being worn 
according to the prevailing fashion, was suffered to fall in 
long elf-locks about his ears. Notwithstanding all these dis- 
advantages, his eyes were so superlatively beautiful that they 
almost persuaded you into the belief that he was handsome. 
From their lustrous depths there streamed a meteoric splendor, 
which, more than words, revealed the genius, the enthusiasm, 
and the noble soul to which Nature had assigned such un- 
worthy corporality. 

Those speaking eyes were fixed upon the countess in tender 
sadness, while, in a respectful attitude near the door, he awaited 
her permission to approach. 

She languidly extended her hand, and, Eugene coming for- 
ward, bent over and imprinted upon it a heartfelt kiss. 

“ My dear mother then consents ? ” said he, humbly. 

“I know of no reason why I should refuse,” replied the 
countess, carelessly. “ Neither am I able to divine wherefore 
you make your request in a tone of such unusual solemnity. 
One would suppose that the little abbe has come to invite his 


PRINCE EUGENE. 


13 


mother to a confession of her sins, so portentous is his de- 
meanor.” 

“Would I could receive that confession,” exclaimed he, 
earnestly ; “would I could look into my mother’s heart and 
read the secrets there ! ” 

“Indeed! and have you come hither to catechise your 
mother, then ?” said the countess, with a frown. 

“ No, dear mother, no,” cried Eugene, eagerly ; “ I have 
come to ask of you whether I may walk with head erect be- 
fore the world, or whether I must die because of our dis- 
honor ?” 

“ An extraordinary alternative to present for my decision, 
certainly ; and I confess that I am very curious to learn how 
it happens that I can assist you in your dilemma. / Speak, then, 
and I will listen.” 

With these words the countess threw herself indolently 
into an arm-chair, and motioned Eugene to a seat. But he 
only advanced a step or two, and gazed wistfully upon her 
handsome, hardened face. 

“ Mother,” said he, in a low, husky voice, “ the soothsayer 
La Voisin has been arrested.” 

“ Ah ! what else ? ” asked the countess, with perfect com- 
posure. 

“Her house is guarded, every corner has been searched, 
and her papers have all been seized.” 

“ And what else ? ” repeated the countess. 

Her son looked up, and a ray of hope shot athwart his pale 
and anxious face. “ Nothing is talked of in Paris,” continued 
he, “ but the strange revelations connected with her arrest. It 
is said that she not only drew the horoscope of those who were 
accustomed to visit her, and gave them philters, but — but — ” 

“ But,” echoed the countess as her son paused. 

“ But that she prepared secret poisons, one of which, called 
c La poudre de succession ,’ was specially designed for the use 
of those who wished to remove an inconvenient relative.” 

This time the countess was silent ; her brow contracted, 
and she shivered perceptibly. 

An involuntary cry burst from the lips of her son, which 
recalled her to a sense of her imprudence. 


u 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ What ails you ? ” asked she, abruptly. “ Have you seen 
a ghost, that you cry out in a voice so unearthly ? ” 

“Yes, mother, I have seen a ghost — the ghost of my 
father ! ” And while the countess grew pale, and her eyes di- 
lated with fear, her unhappy son sank upon his knees before 
her, and clasped his hands with agony of apprehension. 

“ Mother, have mercy on me, and forgive me if, in the an- 
guish of my writhing soul, I ask you whether you are inno- 
cent of my father’s death ? ” 

“ Has any one dared to accuse me ? ” asked she, with a 
scowl. 

“ Ay ! And so publicly, that men spoke of it together as I 
passed them in the streets to-day. Need I say that I was ready 
to die of grief as I. heard the epithet of murderess applied to 
the mother who to me has been the ideal of beauty, goodness, 
and excellence, which my heart has worshipped to the exclu- 
sion of all other loves! My brain was on fire as I dashed 
through the scornful crowd, and made my way to you, mother, 
here to look upon your dear face, and read in your eyes your 
innocence of the hideous crime. We are alone with God : in 
mercy tell me, are you innocent or guilty ? ” 

As he raised his face to hers, the countess saw there such 
powerful love struggling with his anguish, that her heart was 
touched, and the angry words she had meditated died upon 
her lips. 

“ These are cruel doubts wherewith to assail your mother, 
Eugene,” said she, after a pause. “Follow me, and in the 
presence of your forefathers you shall he answered.” 

With a lofty bend of the head, she left the room, followed 
by her stricken child. They crossed a spacious hall, and trav- 
ersed one after another the apartments of state which were 
thrown open to guests on occasions of great ceremony, and 
led to the grand hall of reception. At the farther end of this 
hall, under a canopy of purple velvet, surmounted by a ducal 
crown, were the two thrones which, on the days of these state 
receptions, the Count and Countess de Soissons were privileged 
to occupy in presence of their guests, provided his majesty 
were not of the number. This right they held by virtue of 
their connection with the royal house of France, and their 


PRINCE EUGENE. 


15 


close relationship to the Duke of Savoy. At the time of the 
marriage of his niece with the Count de Soissons, Cardinal 
Mazarin had obtained from Louis XIV. an acknowledgment 
of her husband as a prince of the blood, and, by virtue of this 
acknowledgment, his right to attend without invitation all 
court festivities, to appear at the public and private levees of 
the king, and in his own palace to sit upon a throne. 

On either side of the throne-room of the Hotel de Soissons 
were ranged the portraits of their ancestors, in armor, in ducal 
or episcopal robes, in doublet and hose, or in flowing wigs. 
Silently the mother and son walked by the stately effigies of 
princes and princesses, until they had reached the farthest 
portrait there. 

With outstretched arms the countess pointed to the like- 
ness of a handsome man, clad in a rich court-suit, which well 
became his aristocratic figure. As he gazed upon the pleasant 
smile that illumined a face expressive of exceeding goodness, 
the eyes of young Eugene filled with tears. 

His mother surveyed him with a curl of her lip. 

“ Tears ! ” said she. “And yet you stand before the portrait 
of your father, whom you accuse me of having murdered ! ” 

“ No, no,” cried her son, eagerly, “ I did not accuse, I— I—” 

“You inquired,” interrupted the countess, disdainfully. 
“ And by your inquiry you insinuate that such a crime by the 
hand of your mother was not only possible, but probable.” 

“Unhappily, I have more than once seen La Voisin in your 
boudoir, mother.” 

The countess affected not to hear. “Then a son considers 
himself justifiable in asking of his mother whether or not she 
poisoned his father; he should do so with the sword of justice 
in his hand, not with an eyelid that trembles with cowardly 
tears.” 

“ Mother, have pity on me,” sobbed Eugene, throwing him- 
self at her feet. “ Do not answer my cruel question, for I read 
your innocence in the noble scorn that flashes from your eye, 
and beams from every feature of your dear, truthful face. 
Pardon me, beloved mother; pardon your repentant child.” 

“ No, I shall not pardon the poltroon who, believing that 
his mother has disgraced his escutcheon, weeps like a woman 


16 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


over wrongs which he should avenge like a man. But I for- 
got. The little abbe of Savoy is not accustomed to wear a 
sword; his weapon is the missal. Go, then, to your prayers, 
and when you pray for your father’s soul, ask forgiveness of 
God for your heartless and ungrateful conduct to his widow.” 

“ Dear, dear mother, have pity ! ” sobbed Eugene, still kneel- 
ing at her feet. 

“ Was there any pity in your heart for me when you asked 
that shameful question ? ” 

“I was demented,” cried he; “maddened by the sneers 
that were flung at me in the streets to-day.” 

“ And, to console yourself, you joined in the popular cry. 

‘ Vox populi vox Dei,' I suppose, is your pious motto.” 

“ Mother ! ” cried Eugene, springing to his feet, •“ crush me, 
if you will, under the weight of your anger, but do not stretch 
me upon the rack of your scorn. I am no devotee; and, if the 
king, my family, and yourself, are forcing me into a career 
which is repugnant to every instinct of my manhood, pity me, 
if you will, but do not insult me. ” 

“ Pity you !” sneered the countess. “I am a woman; but 
he who would venture to pity me, would receive my glove in 
his face for his insolence. Go, faint heart ! You are fit for 
nothing but a whining priest, for there is not a spark of man- 
hood within your sluggish breast. No generous blood of the 
princes of Savoy mantles in your sallow cheek; ’tis the ichor- 
ous fluid of the churchman Mazarin that — ” 

“Mother!” thundered Eugene, with a force that gave the 
lie to her derisive words — “ mother, you shall go no further in 
your disdain of me, for the blood of Savoy is seething within 
my veins, and I may, perchance, forget that she who so af- 
fronts my father’s son, is my mother ! ” 

“ You have already forgotten,” replied the countess, coldly. 
“My answer to your infamous charge shall be made not to 
you, but to your ancestors.” 

So saying, she bent her steps toward the ducal throne, and 
seating herself thereon, addressed her son : 

“ Eugene of Savoy, Prince of Carignan, Bourbon, and 
Piedmont, bend your knee before the mother that bore you, 
and hearken to her words.” 


PRINCE EUGENE. 


17 


The prince obeyed, and knelt at the foot of the throne. 

The countess raised her arm, and pointed to the portraits 
that hung around. “ You have been witnesses,” said she, ad- 
dressing them all, “ to the outrage which has been put upon 
me to-day by him who inherits your name, but not your worth. 
If I am the guilty wretch w r hich he has pronounced me to be, 
strike me to the earth for my crimes, and justify his parrici- 
dal words. But you know that I am innocent, and that, with 
bitter tears, I lamented the death of my murdered husband ! ” 

‘‘Murdered!” exclaimed Eugene. “It is, then, true that 
he was murdered ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied the countess, “ he was murdered, but not by 
bowl or dagger.” 

With th^fee. words, she rose, and, slowly descending from 
her throne, she returned to the spot which she had left, and 
gazed mournfully upon her husband’s portrait. “He was a 
noble, brave, and gallant prince,” said she, softly. “ He loved 
me unspeakably, and wherefore should I have taken the life 
of him whose whole pleasure lay in ministering to my happi- 
ness ? What could I gain by the death of the dearest friend I 
ever had ? Ah, never would he have mistrusted his Olympia! 
Had the envious rabble of Paris defamed me while he lived to 
defend my honor, it is not your father, Prince Eugene, that 
would have joined my traducers and outraged my woman- 
hood, as you have done to-day ! ” 

“ Forgive me,” murmured the prince. 

“ Yes, my beloved,” continued she, addressing the picture, 
“they accuse me of murdering thee, because they seek my 
ruin as they compassed thine.” 

“ Who, dear mother, who ? ” cried Eugene, passionately. 
“Who are the fiends that murdered my father and calum- 
niate my mother ? ” 

“They are Louis XIV.,” exclaimed the countess, “his 
minister Louvois, and his two mistresses, De Montespan and 
De Maintenon.” 

“ The king ! ” echoed Eugene, in a voice of such fury, that 
his mother turned her eyes from the portrait, and stared at 
him with amazement. 

“ You hate the king ? ” said she, hurriedly. 


18 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


“Yes,” said Eugene, his eyes flashing fire; “yes, I hate 
him.” 

“ And why ? ” 

“ Do not ask me, mother ; I dare not say wherefore I hate 
the king.” 

“ Then I will tell you why. You hate him because you be- 
lieve the scandalous reports which my enemies have spread 
throughout Europe as regards my relations, in years gone by, 
with Louis. You believe that your mother was once the 
king’s mistress, and that, to hide her shame, she borrowed the 
name of the Count de Soissons.” 

Eugene made no reply. 

“ Ah, why have I no son to shelter me from these infamous 
suspicions! Why must I live and die under such false and 
disgraceful imputations ? ” 

“ Then, it is not true ? ” cried Eugene, joyfully. “ You did 
not love the king, mother ? ” 

“ Yes, I did love him,” said she, calmly, “and loved him as 
an Italian alone can love.” 

Eugene groaned, and .covered his face with his hands. 

“ I do not deny the love,” continued the countess, “ for it 
was all the work of Cardinal Mazarin. He brought me from 
Italy, and bade me win the king’s heart and become a 
queen ; and when he did so he added a recommendation to me 
to he a good, dutiful niece, and never to forget who it was 
had helped me to a crown. I saw the youth whom the car- 
dinal desired me to love : the handsomest, wittiest, and most 
accomplished cavalier in France. I obeyed hut too willingly, 
and Louis became the idol of my life.” 

“ Then it is true that my mother was beloved by the king ? ” 
said Eugene, sternly. 

“ Beloved by him, but never his mistress ! ” returned the 
countess, proudly. “ Yes, he loved me as I did him, with the 
trust, the strength, the passion, that are characteristic of a first 
love. I was ambitious for him as well as for myself, and 
would have had him a monarch in deed as well as in name. 
I led him away from the frivolous regions of indolent enjoy- 
ment to the starry realms of poetry, art, and science ; and, had 
Louis ever risen to the fame of Numa, I should have merited 


PRINCE EUGENE. 


19 


that, of Egeria. But this conflicted with the ambition of the 
cardinal. He had no sooner comprehended the nature of the 
influence I exerted over his royal tool, than he poisoned his 
ear by insinuating that ambition, not love, was the spring of 
all my efforts to elevate him to the level of his magnificent 
destiny. Poor, weak Louis ! He was anything that Cardinal 
Mazarin chose to make him ; so at the word of command he 
ceased to love, and went to make an offering of his accom- 
modating affections to Marie. She made him take an oath 
never to look at me again.” 

“ Did he respect the oath ? ” 

“ Just so long as he loved Marie. I need not tell you that 
I suffered from his inconstancy. I was inexpressibly grieved; 
but pride upheld me, and Louis never received a word or look 
of reproach for his faithlessness. Meanwhile your father of- 
fered his hand, and before I accepted it he was made acquaint- 
ed with the history of my heart. I concealed nothing from 
him, so that he was at once the confidant of my past sorrows, 
and their comforter.” 

“Thank you, dear, dear mother,” said Eugene, tenderly. 
“ In the name of all your children, let me thank you for 
your noble candor. ” 

“ I married the Prince de Soissons, and here, in presence of 
his assembled ancestors, I swear that I have kept unstained 
the faith I pledged him at the marriage-altar. Let the world 
belie me as it will, Olympia Mancini has ever been a spotless 
wife. So true is this, that Louis, when he had abandoned Marie, 
and had tired of his queen, returned to me with vows of a love 
which he swore had been the only genuine passion of his life ; 
and when, as my husband’s loyal wife, I repulsed the advances 
of his sovereign, that sovereign became my bitterest enemy. 
Not even after he had consoled himself with the insipid 
charms of that poor, flimsy creature, La Valliere, did Louis re- 
lent ; his animosity, because of some wfitticism of mine on the 
subject of his hysterical mistress, has pursued me throughout 
life ; not only me, but every member of my family. For a 
mere epigram I was banished from Paris, and your father 
stripped of a lucrative and honorable office. We managed 
after a time to return to court, but my enemies were more 


20 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


powerful than I. Through the jealousy of the Marquise de 
Montespan I was a second time banished ; but before we left, 
your father fought two duels with noblemen who had circu- 
lated the calumnies which the marquise had originated concern- 
ing me. The Duke de Noailles was wounded, and the Cheva- 
lier de Grand Mercy killed. Although the challenges had 
been honorably sent and accepted, the Count de Soissons was 
summoned before the king and publicly rebuked. Oh, let me 
speak no longer of the contumely we endured during those 
bitter days ! My husband died, blessing me, and cursing the 
selfish monarch who had ruined us both.” 

Eugene clinched his hand. “ I shall remember the curse,” 
cried he, “ and it shall be verified if God give me strength, 
mother!” 

“Yes, avenge us if you can, Eugene, but, until the day of 
reckoning come, we must be politic and wary. Be silent and 
discreet as I was, when, on being allowed to return to Paris, I 
humbled myself for my dear children’s sake, and not only 
swore to write no more epigrams, but went in person to sue to 
Madame de Montespan for pardon and protection ! ” 

“ Mother, is it possible ! Far better had it been for us to 
die obscurely in some provincial village, than purchase our 
admission to court at the price of such humiliation as that ! ” 
“No, no — I had sworn to be revenged upon my persecutors, 
and no plan of vendetta could I carry out in a provincial vil- 
lage. Do you remember what I told my sons on the day of our 
return to the Hotel de Soissons ? ” 

“ Ay, mother, that do T. You said : ‘ Bow your heads in 
ostensible humility, but never forget that the Bourbons have 
robbed you of your inheritance. Never forget that if you are 
poor, it is because on some idle pretext of a conspiracy that 
never could be proved, Louis XIV. sequestered the estates of 
the Counts de Soissons.’ These were your words, and you see 
that I have not forgotten them. They are the steel on which 
I have sharpened the hate I feel for the King of France. And 
now that its edge is keen, why may I not lift it against the 
man who belied my mother, and murdered my father ? Oh 
mother, mother, why will you force me to become a priest ? ” 

“ What else could you become ? ” asked Olympia. “ The 


PRINCE EUGENE. 


21 


king is your guardian, and lie it is that from your childhood 
has destined you for the church.’’ 

“ I hate this garb,” exclaimed Eugene, tpuching his cassock. 
“My vocation is not for the priesthood, and, if I am called 
upon to utter compulsory vows, I feel that I shall disgrace my 
cloth. Dear mother, loosen the detested bonds that bind me 
to a listless and contemplative life ! Gird me with a sword, 
and let me go out to battle with the world like a man ! ” 

The countess looked disdainfully at the diminutive figure 
of her son, and raised her shoulders with contempt. “ You a 
soldier ! ” 

“ Yes ! ” exclaimed Eugene, passionately. “ Yes ! My soul 
abhors the cloister, and yearns for the battle-field. While 
you have fancied that I was studying theology, I have been 
poring over the lives of great commanders; and, instead of 
preparing my soul for heaven, I have trained my body for 
earthly strife. Look not so compassionately upon my stature, 
mother. This body is slender, but ’tis the coat of mail that 
covers an intrepid soul, and I have hardened it until it can bid 
defiance to wind or weather. With this arm I curb the 
wildest horse, nor will its sinews yield to the blow of the 
most practised swordsman in France. I have studied the 
science of warfare in books ; my life has been one long prep- 
aration for its practice, and I cannot, will not relinquish 
my day-dreams of glory.” 

“There is no help for it, I tell you. All princes of the 
blood are wards of the king ; your royal guardian has chosen 
your profession, and you must either submit or bear the con- 
sequences of his wrath.” 

“ What care I for his wrath ? Let him give me my free- 
dom, and I will promise never to seek my fortune at his 
hands.” 

“ At all events, wait for some favorable opportunity to re- 
bel, Eugene. We are poor and dependent now, and your 
brother’s scandalous marriage has forever marred our hopes 
of seeing him heir to the duchy of Savoy. To think of a 
Prince de Carignan uniting himself to the daughter of the 
equerry of the Prince de Conde ! What a disgrace ! ” 

“ My brother consulted his heart and not his escutcheon,” 


22 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


replied Eugene, with a smile. “ He followed the example of 
his father, and may God bless him with a wife as beautiful and 
as virtuous as his mother ! ” 

The countess, who had begun to frown at Eugene’s apology 
for his brother, could not resist this filial flattery. She gave 
him her hand, which he kissed devoutly. 

“ You no longer believe me guilty, my son ? ” said she. 
Eugene knelt and murmured: “ Pardon, dear, dear mother! 
My life will be all too short to expiate my unworthy doubts, 
and to avenge your wrongs.” 

“ Avenge them, but do not exasperate the king. Imitate 
Richelieu and Mazarin, and the priest’s gown will no longer be 
distasteful to you. They were great in the field and in the 
cabinet, and both possessed more than regal power, for both 
were the rulers of kings.” 

Eugene was about to reply, but Olympia raised her hand in 
remonstrance, and continued : 

“ I exact of you, for a time at least, apparent submission 
and perfect silence. When the hour is ripe for retaliation, 
you shall strike, and repay me for all that I have endured at 
the hands of the king. But, for the present, breathe not the 
name of Louis above a whisper. I have a deadlier foe than he 
to encounter now. Louvois, Louvois, I dread above all other 
men ; and if you have the strength of a man in your arm, 
Eugene, let the force of its vengeance fall upon the head of 
him, whose animosity is more potent than that of all my other 
enemies united. ” 

“ It shall crush him and all who seek to injure you, mother. 
Revenge ! — yes, revenge for your wrongs, for my father’s death, 
and for my bondage ! ” 

“ Ay, revenge, Eugene ! A man may wear the garb of an 
ecclesiastic with the heart of a hero, and to your brave heart 
these Princes of Carignan commit my cause! Come, let us 
leave our ancestors to their grim repose. May they lend their 
ghostly aid to the arm that wields the carnal weapons of our 
righteous vengeance ! ” 

As she turned to leave the gallery, the train of her blue 
satin dress became entangled in the claws of the lion which 
supported the throne. Eugene stooped hastily to release it, 


THE RIOT. 


23 


and, instead of dropping it again, he smiled affectionately upon 
his mother and placed himself in the attitude of a page. 

The countess looked pleased at the attention, and said, 
“ Have you learned, among your other accomplishments, to 
he a trainbearer ? ” 

“Yes, mother, I have learned to be your trainbearer, hut 
to no other mortal would I condescend to do such service.” 

But Olympia was not listening. She was day-dreaming 
again, and the substance of her dreams was as follows : 

“ How soon, perchance, the court of France may bear my 
train along, while I, victorious and exultant, crush the head of 
my enemies beneath my heel ! I feel the glow of the philter 
as it courses through my veins, warming the blood that shall 
mantle in my cheeks, kindling the fire that shall flash from 
my eyes ! The hour is nigh when I am to make my last su- 
preme effort for mastery over the heart of Louis : if I fail — I 
have an avenger in Eugene, who — ” 

At this moment an outcry was heard in the streets, and as 
Olympia opened the door of her cabinet, she was confronted 
by her steward, who, unannounced, stood pale as death before 
his astonished mistress. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE RIOT. 

“ What, in the name of Heaven, is the matter ? ” exclaimed 
she. “ Whence these discordant yells without, and how 
comes it that you enter my private apartments without a sum- 
mons ? ” 

“ I trust your highness will pardon my boldness ; the case 
is too urgent to admit of formalities, and I come to receive 
your instructions as to — ” 

Here the voice of the steward was overpowered by the yells 
of the populace without, and for several moments the countess 
and her son stood in speechless amazement, waiting an ex- 
planation. “ What can it mean ? ” asked she at last. 


24 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Your highness,” replied the trembling steward, “ the court 
is filled with an infuriated mob, who rushed in before we had 
time to close the gates.” 

Eugene, w T ith an exclamation of dismay, would have 
darted to the window, but the steward raised his hand implor- 
ingly. 

“ Do not let them see you, prince,” cried he. “ They have 
torn up the pavement, and with the stones have shattered the 
windows of the lower story.” 

“ Then it is a riot,” said the countess, “ and the canaille of 
Paris have rebelled against the aristocracy.” 

“ Unhappily, your highness, their anger is directed exclu- 
sively against the Hotel Soissons, and, if I judged by the num- 
ber of our assailants, I should say that all Paris has joined in 
the attack. Not only the canaille are here, but, as I was hur- 
rying to the corps de garde to ask for protection, I saw more 
than one well-dressed personage descend from his carriage and 
come thither to increase the number of our enemies.” 

“ I understand,” said the countess, setting her teeth, “ the 
anger of the mob is directed against me.” 

“ Mother,” whispered Eugene, “ they must be the same 
men whom I met in the streets, and whose jeers drove me 
thither to add tg your misery the stab of my unfilial doubts.” 

“ Did you say that you had sent off for guards ? ” asked she 
of Latour. 

“ Yes, your highness. I went at once to the headquarters 
of the corps de garde , and the officer of the day promised im- 
mediate succor.” 

“ It will not be sent,” returned Olympia. “ But hark ! 
What tumult is this ? ” 

“ They are battering the palace-doors,” said Eugene, who, 
in spite of the steward’s entreaties, had approached the win- 
dow and w T as looking down upon the mob. The palace de 
Soissons fronted the Rue Deux Ecus, from which it was sep- 
arated by a tall iron railing. The enclosure was filled with a 
throng so dense that there was scarcely room for them to 
move a limb ; and yet, in their regular assaults upon the pal- 
ace-doors, they seemed to be obeying the commands of some 
unseen chief. 


THE RIOT. 


25 


Eugene surveyed the scene with something of that calm hut 
powerful interest which possesses the soul of a commander 
about to engage the enemy. 

“ The multitude increase,” said he. “ If they continue to 
press in much longer, the court will be so thronged that no 
more missiles can be thrown.” 

At that very moment the windows were assailed by a hail- 
storm of stones, one of which fell at Olympia’s feet. She 
touched it with the point of her satin slipper, remarking as she 
did so, “ This is a greeting from Louvois.” 

“ For God’s sake, your highness, be not so rash ! ” exclaimed 
Latour, as a second stone flew over the head of the prince, and 
shattered part of a cornice close by. 

Eugene had not moved. He heeded neither steward nor 
stone, but stood with folded arms, looking upon the terrible 
concourse of his mother’s accusers. His face was very pale 
and resolute ; it expressed nothing beyond stern endurance ; 
but the eye was threatening, and the dwarfish figure had ex- 
panded until the abbe was forgotten, and in his place stood the 
implacable foe of Louis XIV. 

“ Yes,” said he, “ I was right. The crowd is so dense that 
they now threaten one another, and, unless they force the en- 
trance to the palace, they will be crushed by their own num- 
bers.” 

“ They will never force the entrance,” said Latour. “ The 
door is barred and bolted, and they may bombard it for a day 
before they ever make an impression upon the stout plates of 
iron with which it is lined.” 

“ Ay,” replied Eugene, with a smile. “ Catharine de Medi- 
cis knew how to build a stronghold. She knew from experi- 
ence what it is to face an insurrection, and took her precau- 
tions accordingly. We owe her a debt of gratitude for our 
security — Good heavens!” cried he, interrupting himself, 
“ they have found means to send us another salvo.” 

A shower of stones came rattling toward the very window 
where he stood, one of which struck the countess on the shoul- 
der and caused her to wince. 

Once more Latour besought her to take refuge in another 
apartment. 

3 


26 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ You have said that they cannot force the entrance; what 
do you fear ? ” said she. 

“ I fear the stones, your highness.” 

“ Then I will prove to the rabble that I, no more than Car- 
dinal Mazarin, am to he terrified by stones,” returned Olym- 
pia, approaching the window and placing herself at the side of 
her son. 

The multitude, as they recognized her, broke forth into a 
wild shout of abhorrence. 

“Look! there is the woman who murdered her husband, 
and would have murdered her children too ! ” “ There is the 

wretch who would have poisoned the king ! ” “ There stands 
the accomplice of La Voisin!” “And while her tool lan- 
guishes in prison, she has no right to breathe the free air of 
heaven ! ” “ Away with her to the Bastile ! ” “ To the Bas- 
tile, to the Bastile ! ” “ No ! let her he burned for her 

crimes ! ” 

“ Louvois ! Louvois ! ” murmured Olympia, her brow red- 
dening with humiliation. 

Another yell from the besiegers was silenced by a loud 
voice, whose words of command rose clear above the tu- 
mult. 

“ I knew it,” said Eugene, “ they have a leader. There is a 
method in these manifestations which shows that they are not 
the disconnected efforts of a many-headed monster.” 

“ Great God ! And the guards are not even to be seen ! ” 
cried Latour, who stood with folded hands, murmuring snatches 
of prayer for help. 

“ Nor will they be seen,” added Olympia, in a low voice. 

Eugene was glancing now at his mother, now at her perse- 
cutors. As his eye wandered from one to another of the up- 
lifted and angry faces below, he saw two men somewhat ele- 
vated above the rest, who with their outstretched arms were 
giving the signal for a fresh onslaught. No demonstration, 
however, followed the command, for the people had gravitated 
into one solid body, of which no portion was capable of inde- 
pendent action. 

“Now,” thought the prince, “ now would be the opportu- 
nity for retaliation. If I had but the means! — Latour,” con- 


THE RIOT. 27 

tinued he, aloud, “ do the iron gates of entrance open within 
or without ? ” 

“Without, your highness.” 

“ So that if we could get access to the street, we might cage 
up these base-horn villains, might we not ?” 

“ Yes, your highness ; hut he who shuts the gates must undo 
the chains by which they are fastened back.” 

“ Who has the keys ? ” 

“I, your highness. I have them now upon my person.” 

“ There are outlets by which you could gain access to the 
gates without facing the people ? ” 

“ Certainly, your highness,” began Latour ; hut his words 
were drowned in another outburst of bowlings from the mad- 
dened mob, and another discharge of stones whizzed through 
the air, crushing the mullions of the windows to splinters, and 
dashing their fragments of shivering glass into the very faces 
of the unfortunate besieged. 

“ If the guards would hut come ! ” said Latour, reiterating 
for the twentieth time his doleful refrain. 

“ Since it appears that they have no intention of coming,” 
replied the- prince, “ we must e’en take this matter of defence 
in our own hands. Hasten, Latour, to the street — undo the 
fastenings, and quick as thought lock the gates ! ” 

“ But, your highness, do you suppose that I shall be suf- 
fered by that infuriated crowd to lock or unlock the gates at 
pleasure ? ” 

“Never fear; their faces are all turned toward the palace. 
You will have accomplished the thing before they know that 
you have undertaken it. Take two other men with you, who, 
as soon as you release the chains, must fling the gates together, 
while you relock them. Now he dexterous, and you will have 
performed no unimportant feat of strategy.” 

“I will do my best, your highness.” 

“ Before you go, summon the household to my presence. 
How many men are there at home to-day ? ” 

“Twelve, your highness.” 

“Enough to settle with two thousand such wretches.” 

Latour darted away on his double mission, and the prince 
turned to his mother, who, undaunted and defiant, still stood 


28 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


before the window contemplating her assailants, giving back 
look for look of scorn and abhorrence. 

“ May I beg of my dear mother permission to absent myself 
for a while ? ” said Eugene. 

The countess looked round with inquiring eyes. “Whither 
would you go, my son ? ” asked she. 

“ I wish to give some orders to the domestics, to arm them, 
and assign to each man his post.” 

“ Where will you find weapons, my son ? ” 

“ I have among my effects a small collection of fire-arms. 
They are all in good order, and all loaded. I have nothing to 
do but distribute them, and place my men.” 

The countess smiled. “ In good sooth, I begin to believe 
that you are fitter for a soldier than for a churchman. 
But you are not in earnest when you speak of using fire- 
arms ? ” 

“Why not ? We are attacked, and, obeying the laws of 
necessity, we defend ourselves. Unfortunately, we are forced 
to remain on the defensive ; I only wish I had an opportunity 
to attack.” 

“ But what means that new outbreak of fury ? ” asked the 
countess, returning to the window. 

“ It means,” cried Eugene, joyfully, “ that Latour has been 
successful, and the gates are locked. The ruffians have dis- 
covered the snare, and they howl accordingly. Now to my 
garrison; I must station it with judgment, for it is not nu- 
merous.” 

“ I will accompany you, my son,” said the countess. “ I 
would not miss the sight of the first exploit of my future car- 
dinal, him who promises to unite in his own person the wisdom 
of Mazarin with the prowess of Richelieu ! ” 

The servants were assembled in the hall, whither they had 
taken refuge from the stones and splintering glass, that were 
flying in the palace windows. They were not a very valiant- 
looking body of troops, but their commander made no com- 
ment upon their dismayed faces. He merely counted them 
and spoke to his valet. 

“ Darmont, conduct these men to the armory, and provide 
each one with a musket. Let them handle the guns carefully, 


THE RIOT. 29 

for they are heavily loaded. Bring me my pistols also. And 
now, away! and return quickly.” 

Silently, and, to all appearances, not much edified by these 
recommendations, the domestics followed Darmont, while Eu- 
gene returned to his station at the window. 

“Not only have they a leader,” said he, “but I believe that 
they were instigated to make this attack, mother.” 

“ No doubt of it,” replied Olympia; “ and since Louvois has 
dared so much, we may infer that he has the sanction of the 
king for his brutality.” 

“Look!” cried Eugene, catching her arm, “there is the 
leader ! — that tall man in the brown suit, with bright buttons, 
who stands upon the stone seat, near the gates.” 

“ I see him,” returned the countess. “ He is Speaking with 
two men who are directly in front of him. This person looks 
familiar to me: I have surely seen that tall figure and those 
wide shoulders before. If his hat were not drawn so far over 
his brows, and we could but see his face, our doubts as to the 
source of this outrage would speedily be solved.” 

“ He has been giving instructions, for the two men are 
addressing the crowd. I fear we must look out for another 
bombardment. ” 

And so it seemed; for the mob, having recovered from 
their momentary fright, were evidently preparing for action. 
Hundreds of brawny arms, each one of which grasped a stone, 
were raised into the air ; while as many stooping forms were 
seen, crouching close to the ground, that they might leave 
room for the slingers to hurl their missiles without impedi- 
ment. 

“ That is a good manoeuvre,” said Eugene. “ Their leader 
understands strategic warfare. They are ready, and await the 
word of command. It comes! Stand back, mother!” 

A crash was heard, but not a stone had been aimed at the 
windows. “Ah, I understand,” cried Eugene. “They are 
trying to force the door, and so obtain their release. Thank 
Heaven ! Here comes the garrison, a handful of braves who, 
I hope, are destined to change the fortunes of the day. — Now," 
continued he, advancing to meet them, “ listen to me. There 
are twelve of you, and the hall has seven openings. Leave the 


30 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


central window free, and station yourselves two at each one of 
the other six. Throw open the casements, cock your guns, 
and be ready for the word of command. Darmont, give me 
my pistols.” 

With one of these in either hand, Eugene stationed him- 
self at the window in the centre, while his mother stood by his 
side. 

“ They are about to favor us with another volley,” said the 
prince. u Neither they nor their leader have as yet remarked 
the changed aspect of the palace-windows.” 

“ The hat of the leader is purposely drawn down, and, 
while he succeeds in concealing his features, he loses sight of 
the danger which threatens from above. So much the better 
for us; but I do long to have a sight of his face,” returned the 
countess. 

“ You shall have your wish,” replied Eugene, with a smile. 
“ I will knock off his hat, and your curiosity shall be grati- 
fied.” 

“ How will you manage to do that ? ” 

u You shall see,” said he, raising the pistol that he held in 
his right hand. 

He fired, and when the smoke had cleared away, the face 
of the leader was exposed to view. The ball had struck the 
hat, which had fallen, and now a pair of dark, sinister eyes 
were glaring at the spot whence the insult had been sent. 

“ Have a care,” said the prince, leaning forward and ad- 
dressing the crowd. “ If you send another missile against these 
walls, I will have twelve of your lives ! ” 

The men, who were just about to fling their stones, paused 
and stared at one another in dumb perplexity. 

Their leader, pale with rage, gave the word of command. 

Eugene heard it, and called out in clear, defiant tones : “ If 
the leader of this riot attempt a repetition of his order, I will 
break his right arm.” 

“ Another volley, men ! ” shouted the chief. 

A second report from the window was heard, which was 
answered by a yell from below. Eugene’s ball had pierced 
the elbow of the leader, and the dismayed crowd had made a 
hasty movement toward the gates. 


THE RIOT. 


ai 


“Do you not see that there is no egress for you except 
through the palace ? Look at the murderess there, instigating 
her whelp to new crimes! She exults over your weakness, 
and laughs at your panic. On ! on ! Batter down the doors ! ” 

“On!” echoed the mob; and their stones were flung with 
such frenzy against the palace-doors, that its very walls trem- 
bled. 

“ Fire ! ” called out the sonorous voice of Eugene, and in 
another moment might be seen the sinking forms of twelve 
of the rioters, while, among the others, some were pale with 
fright, and a few cried out that they would be revenged. 

“Revenge is for those whom you have insulted and at- 
tacked,” replied the prince, deliberately. “You have made a 
cowardly assault upon a noble lady, and not on'e of you shall 
leave this place alive ! — Make ready ! Take aim ! ” continued 
he to his men. 

The click of the locks was distinctly heard, and in the 
crowd each man fancied that one of those carbiues was aimed 
at his own head. The mob was losing heart; not even their 
leader was to be seen or heard. He had taken refuge in a 
sheltered corner of the court, where his wounds were being 
bound up by his lieutenants. Inconspicuous as he was, how- 
ever, the sharp eyes of Olympia had followed him to his re- 
treat. Not for one moment did she lose sight of him ; she 
was determined to solve the enigma of his identity. As the 
last bellicose words of Prince Eugene rang through the ears 
of his dismayed followers, the wounded ringleader flung back 
his head with such sudden haste, that its masses of dark, 
tangled hair were entirely thrown aside, and the face that was 
revealed by their removal, caused the countess to start and 
utter an exclamation of surprise. As Eugene was about to 
give the command to fire, his mother caught his arm, and 
whispered in his ear: 

“ My son, I now think tha/t I can tell you the name of yon- 
der caitiff there, and, if I have guessed rightly, it were better 
for us to cease hostile demonstrations, and capitulate.” 

“ Capitulate ! ” cried the prince, indignantly. “ Capitulate 
with the rabble! Who can be this man that has so suddenly 
cowered the heart of my noble mother ? ” 


32 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I think that he is the son of Louvois,” whispered she. 

“ Ah, the presuming Barbesieur, who would have given his 
name to a Princess de Carignan?” 

“ Yes — the same. His beard is dyed, and he wears false 
locks, but, spite of his disguise, I feel sure that it is Barbe- 
sieur. And I warn you, Eugene! harm not a hair on his 
head, for he is the favorite son of the mightiest man in France 
— mighty and vindictive. Kill as many of the rabble as you 
will; but give positive orders to your men not to touch Barbe- 
sieur Louvois. ” 

“ I ought to command them to fire on no other man, for he 
is responsible for the acts of every rioter here.” 

“ That would be to cast your entire family into the very 
jaws of destruction. These men who call me murderess, could 
not be made to believe that I have the tenderness of a mother 
for my children ; but you, Eugene, who know how dearly I 
love you all, you can understand that no revenge would be 
sweet that was purchased at the expense of my children’s wel- 
fare. Spare, then, I implore you, the man who holds your 
destinies in his unfriendly hand.” 

“ So be it,” sighed Eugene, and he went from man to man, 
saying in a low voice, “ Direct your fire toward the left.” He 
then took his station at the central window, and, raising 
his arm, called out a second time : “ Make ready ! Take 
aim ! ” 

The multitude heard, and their exceeding consternation 
found utterance in one prolonged shriek of horror. 

“ Do not fire ! ” screamed a hundred voices. “ Do not fire ! 
We are defenceless ! ” 

The order was countermanded, and the self-possessed de- 
fender of the beleaguered palace advanced his head and con- 
templated the ignoble faces of his enemies. 

“ You acknowledge yourself baffled, then ? You are will- 
ing to retreat ? ” 

“ Ay ! ” was the ready response of every rioter there. 

“You swear to desist now and forever from your infamous 
attack upon this palace ? You swear never more to make use 
of vituperative epithets toward the family of the deceased 
Count de Soissons ? ” 


THE RIOT. 


33 


“We swear, we swear! Open the gates! Let ns out! Let 
us out ! ” was now the universal cry. 

“ Not so fast. Before you have my permission to retire, I 
must have unequivocal, outspoken evidence of your repentance 
and conversion. You have presumed to asperse the good 
name of the Countess de Soissons. Take bkck your injurious 
words, and cheer her now, right lustily. Cry out three times, 

£ Long live the noble Countess de Soissons ! ’ and, if your ac- 
clamations are to my mind, I will open the gates.” 

The reply to these conditions was a greeting so enthusiastic 
and so unanimous, that you would have sworn the mob had 
assembled before the hotel to tender to its inmates a popular 
ovation. 

“ Miserable canaille ! ” muttered their chief; “ they are base 
enough to hurl their stones at me, if that beardless manikin up 
there should require it of them, as a peace-offering to his im- 
maculate mother ! ” 

“ I told your excellency that you could not trust them,” 
replied the companion on whose arm he was leaning. “ It is 
a dangerous thing to be identified with any action of theirs.” 

“ You were right, Francois. Give me your arm, and let us 
try to reach the gates, so as to be the first to escape from this 
accursed man- trap.” 

“You have cheered the countess but once,” cried Eugene 
to the multitude. “ Do you wish me to renew our strife ? ” 

“ Long live the noble Countess de Soissons ! ” was the 
prompt reply. And, without waiting for a third suggestion, 
they shouted again and again, “ Long live the Countess de Sois- 
sons ! ” 

Olympia’s flashing eyes rested proudly on her son. “I 
thank you, Eugene: you have avenged me effectually. All 
Paris will be filled with lampoons on the ridiculous repulse of 
the valiant Barbesieur and his followers.” 

Eugene made no reply. His eyes were fixed upon the per- 
sonage whom they supposed to be the son of Louvois, and the 
prince knew perfectly well wherefore he seemed in such nerv- 
ous haste to reach the gates. 

“ He hopes to escape without recognition,” muttered Eugene, 
“but I must have a word with him before we part.” 


34 : 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“Open the gates!” clamored the populace anew; then sud- 
denly there was a cry of alarm which was echoed from man 
to man, from group to group, until it shaped itself into these 
words: “ The guards! The guards! ” 


CHAPTER V. 

BARBESIEUR LOUVOIS. 

Thundering down the street came a troop of horsemen, 
who halted directly in front of the palace-gates. 

“ Louvois’ spies have been reporting the failure of his son’s 
warlike expedition,” remarked Olympia, and the guards whom 
we had vainly called to our help, have come in hot haste to 
protect our assailants.” 

By this time the officer in command was at the gates mak- 
ing vain efforts to open them. 

“ What does this signify ? ” asked he. “ And what is this 
multitude about in the court of the Hotel de Soissons ? ” 

“Look at the palace-windows and the palace-doors, and 
you will read your answer there,” replied Eugene. “ I closed 
the gates against a furious and misguided mob ; but we have 
come to terms, and I am about to liberate them. I crave your 
indulgence for these poor fellows : they have been deceived, 
and knew not what they did, and I hope that you will make 
good the forgiveness I have extended to their fault, by allow- 
ing them to go hence without molestation.” 

“ If so,” replied the officer, “ I shall be happy to confirm 
you highness’s clemency by carrying out your order for their 
release.” 

“ Is it possible,” asked the countess of her son, “ that you 
are in earnest ? You intend to suffer those wretches to go 
away unharmed ! Because I asked your forbearance for one 
man, shall this vile horde be snatched from the hands of jus- 
tice ! ” 

“ Do you suppose .that justice has any intention of overtak- 
ing them ? ” asked Eugene, with a significant smile. “ Believe 


BARBESIEUR LOUVOIS. 


35 


me, dear mother, I do but anticipate the object for which the 
guards were sent, and spare myself and you the humiliation 
of publishing to the world that neither law nor justice takes 
cognizance of the wrongs of the Countess de Soissons. These 
men have come hither to succor our enemies, not us.” 

“ Ah, my son, I begin to appreciate you. You have in- 
herited the sagacity of your great uncle,” returned Olympia. 

“ Open the gates ! open the gates ! ” cried the rioters. 

“ W ill your highness be pleased to send some one to re- 
lease your prisoners ? ” asked the captain of the guardsmen. 

“ I shall be there myself, in a moment,” was the reply. 

“You!” exclaimed the countess. “Would you expose 
yourself to the vengeance of the populace, Eugene ? ” 

“ They will not molest me. Barbesieur Louvois has reached 
the gates, and I must greet him ere he goes. — Come, Latour 
and Darmont, and show me the way by the private staircase. 
The rest of you keep your posts and be watchful, for the 
struggle may be renewed, and it is just possible that I may 
have to order you to fire. — And now shall I conduct my 
mother to her boudoir ? ” 

“ No, my son, I remain here to observe what passes below, 
nor will I retire until I shall have seen the ending of this 
curious spectacle.” 

Eugene bowed and withdrew. “ Go before, Latour,” said 
he. “ I am unacquainted with the private inlets and outlets 
of the palace.” 

Latour obeyed, saying to himself : “ They may well make 
a priest of this virtuous youth, who knows nothing of the 
secret windings of his own hotel. His father and his brother 
were wiser than he; and many a night have they gone in and 
out on visits of gallantry, when they were young enough to 
be as squeamish as he, or old enough to have reformed their 
ways.” 

“Give me the keys,” said Eugene, as they emerged from 
the side-entrance. “I will unlock the gates, and when I cry 
* Halt ! ’ do you seize upon a man whom I shall point out to 
you as he attempts to force the passage in advance of his con- 
federates.” 

“Let us alone for holding him fast, your highness.” 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


36 

Eugene went a few steps farther; then, turning round, he 
said: “Yes — grasp him well, but be careful not to take him by 
the right arm, for I believe that it is wounded.” 

As he spoke these merciful words, Eugene blushed, for he 
saw a derisive smile on Latour’s face. 

“ I was in error,” thought the steward. “ Such a soft heart 
ought to have been lodged in the body of a woman.” 

They had now reached the palace-front, where, in return 
for the obsequious salutation of the captain of the guard, Eu- 
gene slightly inclined his head. 

“You came late to the rescue,” said the prince. »“ Had you 
answered the requisition of my steward, you would have 
spared me the painful necessity of wounding a dozen of those 
poor devils.” 

“Was there bloodshed ?” returned the officer. 

“ Of course there was. You can hardly imagine that I 
quieted these turbulent rioters with a lullaby. Yes, there has 
been bloodshed, and I have had satisfaction for the affront 
offered to my house to-day. I hope you hold me justified in 
my method of procedure.” 

“Perfectly justified, your highness.” 

“Then the matter rests here, and peace is proclaimed. 
From my amnesty, however, I except one man, him who is re- 
sponsible for all the evil that has been done by his followers.” 

“Your highness has only to point him out, .and I will have 
him arrested forthwith.” 

“ You give me your word of honor that he shall not escape 
punishment ? ” 

“My word of honor, your highness.” 

“Latour and Darmont, station yourselves one on either 
side of me, while I unlock the gates.” 

They took their positions, and Eugene slowly drew out his 
ponderous keys. They were heard to click in the locks, and 
at the welcome sound, there was a shout of joy from the im- 
prisoned rioters. They pressed eagerly forward — the gates 
parted— and the crowd began to pour out into the streets. 
Eugene soon perceived the tall form of the ringleader, although 
he had borrowed the hat of his companion, and wore it 
slouched far down over his face. 


BARBESIEUR LOUVOIS. 


37 


As he approached the entrance, Eugene gave the signal 
agreed upon, and he was seized by Latour and Darmont. But 
they had forgotten the precaution given them as regarded his 
wounded arm, for as they touched him he had been unable to 
suppress a cry of pain. 

“ Hold him, Latour,” said the prince, “ and you, Darmont, 
close the gates so that only one man may pass at a time. Some 
of those guards might he of service to us. Have I your permis- 
sion to employ them, captain ? ” 

Eight men were ordered to dismount and to station them- 
selves at the gates, which, spite of the tremendous pressure 
from within, they managed to secure, so that each man as he 
passed could be scanned by him, who, notwithstanding his 
delicate build and diminutive stature, was unquestionably the 
hero of the day. 

“ Now that the court is empty, you can see what devasta- 
tion has been committed,” said he to the captain of the guard. 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied the latter, raising himself in his 
stirrups to overlook the railing, “ they have uprooted the whole 
pavement.” 

“ And have seriously damaged the windows,” added Eu- 
gene. “ For all this destruction we have to thank yonder 
churl,” continued he, pointing to a man of almost gigantic 
stature, who was struggling to free himself from the hands of 
Latour and Darmont. “ Not content with the laurels he has 
won as the ringleader of a mob, he has aspired to achieve re- 
nown by defaming women. He has incited the populace to 
asperse the good name of my honored mother, and by Heaven, 
he shall suffer for every opprobrious word that has fallen 
from the tongue of every base-born villain that followed him 
hither ! ” 

“Your highness shall yourself dictate his punishment,” 
replied the officer, courteously. 

“ Then order your men to capture the twelve last rioters 
that leave the enclosure, and let their leader, who is a thou- 
sand times more guilty than they, oversee the restoration of 
the pavement, and himself remove yonder Druid’s temple, that 
lies before the central window there.” 

“ Never ! ” exclaimed the giant, redoubling his efforts to 


38 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


escape, and writhing so vigorously that Latour and Darmont 
had to strain every sinew to retain their hold of his huge 
body. 

Eugene eyed his prisoner with withering scorn. “You 
hear him, captain ! He says ‘ Never ! ’ as though it were for 
him to decide whether or not my judgment is a righteous 
one. And yet I think it most moderate amends to make for 
such immeasurable wrong.” 

“ Indeed, your highness, it is most disproportionate to the 
enormity of the offence. It is only too merciful ! — Here ! Eight 
men to carry out the orders of the noble Prince of Savoy ! ” 
shouted he, peremptorily. 

The crowd, meanwhile, by this time convinced that submis- 
sion was their only alternative, were passing slowly and si- 
lently through the gates. They were so completely subdued, 
that not one ventured a remonstrance. They were intent each 
man upon his own retreat, and nobody was troubled about the 
fate of the chief. 

“ There are just twelve men within the enclosure,” said the 
officer. “ Instead of capturing them singly, close the gates, 
and secure them all at once.” 

“But first let us admit my distinguished prisoner. — Thrust 
him in, Latour, and conduct him to his task. He must expiate 
his offence against the Countess de Soissons, by removing 
that heap of stones, which were cast by his command 
against my palace-doors. If he prove intractable, bring him 
to his senses by administering a blow or two with a stout 
cudgel.” 

The chief, who for a few moments had been hoping by 
affected submission to withdraw the attention of Eugene from 
himself to his followers, gave a howl of rage, and looked 
around for his companion. The latter, instead of passing out 
with the crowd, had remained voluntarily in the enclosure 
with the twelve who were to suffer for all. 

They whispered together, after which the subordinate, ap- 
proaching the captain of the guard, said : “ Captain, I come to 
offer myself in the place of my poor brother, who, having been 
wounded in the arm, is helpless, and incapable of removing 
the smallest of those stones.” 


BARBESIEUR LOUVOIS. 


39 


“ What says your highness ? ” asked the officer of the 
prince. 

“ I grant the petition, for it is reasonable. Let him confine 
himself, then, to the superintendence of the work.” 

“ Captain, I crave permission to conduct my brother to a 
surgeon, where his wound may be dressed. It is impossible 
that any man can be so brutal as to require him to stay here 
with a bullet in his arm,” said the subordinate. 

“ The bullet was no impediment while outrage was to be 
committed on the property of the Countess de Soissons,” thun- 
dered Eugene, “ and I exact that he remain.” 

“ Your highness’s commands shall be obeyed,” replied the 
officer. 

“ Captain,” said the ringleader, dragging himself forward, 
while in his tremendous strength he forced his captors along 
with him, “captain, I must have a word in private with you. 

I have something of importance to communicate, and you 
must come nearer that I may whisper in your ear.” 

So imperious was the sound of his voice that the captain 
involuntarily obeyed, and bent down his ear to listen. Al- 
though the latter was on horseback and the former on foot, 
his tall figure was almost on a level with the officer’s head. 

He spoke a few low words, the captain started, and, quickly 
raising his head, he surveyed the gigantic chief from head to 
foot. He then conferred with him a few moments, after 
which he addressed himself in a very embarrassed manner to 
Eugene. 

“ Your highness, this poor man complains so piteously of • 
the agony he endures, that it would be cruel to detain him 
any longer. If you have no objection, I will send him 
to the surgeon, accompanied by four of my men, who, 
when his wound shall have been dressed, can reconduct him 
hither.” 

“ He will not return,” replied Eugene, with a shrug. “ He 
will find means to escape the vigilance of the police. So be 
it. Let his wounds be dressed, and let him depart whither he 
lists. But I have a few words of adieu to speak ere he goes.” 
So saying, he approached his tall adversary, and so command- 
ing was his presence, so fiery his eye, and so proud his de- 


40 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


meanor, that Eugene of Savoy looked mightier than the wide- 
shouldered giant before him. 

“ I wish merely to say to this fellow that he is a knave,” 
said the prince. “ Yes, captain, a knave, although you start 
to hear me call him thus. I neither know his name, nor wish 
to know it; but I shall recognize him among a thousand, and, 
if ever I meet him again, I will give him a knave’s portion — a 
sound horsewhipping. And now away with him ! His pres- 
ence is intolerable ! ” 

“ I go,” replied the other, pale and trembling with rage. 
“ But beware, little priestling, how you cross my path ! If 
ever you dare intrude yourself upon my sight, I will crush 
your diminutive carcass as an elephant does a crawling 
worm ! ” He went, followed by him who had claimed him as 
a brother, and accompanied by four guardsmen, who rode at 
some distance behind their prisoners. 

“ And now, captain,” said Eugene, “ since your sympathiz- 
ing heart has made it impossible for you to allow justice its 
way, you will, I presume, see fit to appoint another man to su- 
pervise the repairing of my court-yard.” 

“ I myself will attend to it, your highness,” said the officer, 
bowing to his saddle-bow. “ Not only that; I will send work- 
men to replace the broken panes and restore the window- 
frames, so that by to-morrow no trace of the damage done 
shall remain.” 

Eugene laughed. You are certainly most accommodat- 
ing ! As much so as if the city guard had participated in the 
riot ! Adieu, sir ! And may this be our last meeting of the 
sort ! ” 

Accompanied by his two domestics, he re-entered the pal- 
ace. His twelve men were at their posts, and the countess was 
still standing at the window whence she had witnessed the 
scene below. 

Eugene dismissed his household, gave orders to have his 
weapons carefully replaced in his armory, and then, with a 
deep inclination to his mother, he asked if he might now con- 
duct her to her boudoir. 

She gave a smiling assent, took his proffered arm, and 
returned to her cabinet. Once there, she turned toward her 


BARBESIEUR LOUYOIS. 


41 


son, and, contemplating him for the first time in her life with 
pride and admiration, she thanked him warmly for what he 
had done. 

“ My dear son,” said she, “ I must congratulate you upon 
your strength of character. Believe me, you looked mightier 
far than Louvois’ overgrown Titan. If he surpassed you in 
stature, your great soul towered far above his lofty person. I 
could not hear what you were saying to those two men, Eu- 
gene, hut I read in the glance of your fearless eye that your 
words were such as would have rejoiced my heart to overhear. 
In that moment my Soul went far out into the future, and 
there I saw you great, glorious, renowned. You know, Eu- 
gene, that I have sometimes strange revelations of things hid- 
den from ordinary mortals : I have visions that are prophetic, 
and I tell you that you are destined to earn imperishable fame. 
Go, my son, and fulfil your destiny ! ” 

Eugene, his features illumined by enthusiasm and radiant 
with hope, covered his mother’s hand with kisses, and again 
besought her forgiveness for his unfilial behavior in the gal- 
lery. “ Dear mother,” said he, tearfully, “ are you indeed rec- 
onciled to your unworthy child ? ” 

“Yes, Eugene, yes. When you compelled that unwilling 
multitude to do me homage, I forgave you from my heart. I 
have always loved you as my child, but from this day forward 
I honor you as my deliverer. Come to my arms and take the 
mother’s kiss that shall consecrate you to glory.” 

Eugene, intoxicated with happiness, threw himself upon 
her bosom, and was clasped to her heart. “ With this kiss I 
greet the hero whose exploits shall shed new lustre upon his 
princely house. God bless thee, my son ! Sweeter lips may 
meet thine in the glow of a love more passionate, but never 
will they kiss thee with a tenderness more true than does thy 
proud mother this day ! ” 

“And never will I love woman more tenderly than I 
do my precious mother. You were my ideal of womanly 
perfection as a child, and your adored image will be my 
soul’s divinity to the latest hour of my life! Never again 
will I doubt you; were the whole world to scorn you, I at 
least will believe in you, and honor you with a faith as 
4 


42 


PRINCE EUGENE AND I1IS . TIMES. 


implicit as that which leads man to martyrdom for his Re- 
deemer’s sake.” 

“ Believe in me, and trust me,” returned the countess, again 
impressing a kiss on her son’s forehead. “ And when you are 
great and powerful, think of this hour, my child. ’Tis one of 
the brightest of my life ; one of the few wherein I have unveiled 
my heart to mortal man. Think of it, then, Eugene, when 
you wear the hat of a cardinal, and — ” 

“ What, mother ! You would devote me to the priesthood, 
after all that has passed between us to-day ! ” 

“’Tis your only path to renown; ’tis the only ladder by 
which ambition can climb to power. With Louis’ favor, you 
may become a cardinal and a statesman; without it you will 
never become a field-marshal. We must take fate as we find 
it, Eugene; not whine because we may not fashion it to our 
own liking.” 

“ Then be it so: I submit. But I tell you, for the last time, 
that under my priestly gown there will be heard the wild and 
unseemly throbbings of a heart that not only pants for glory, 
but yearns for love.” . 

“ Cardinals may hope for both,” returned Olympia, with a 
strange, unpleasant smile. “ Ask the widowed Queen Anne, 
whether Richelieu knew how to love. And ask her whether 
Mazarin was not as fond as he was sagacious. But enough of 
day-dreams: we must return to the affairs of real life. There 
has been a demonstration of serious import against me to-day. 
I must oppose it by another. Louvois and his minions must 
learn that I am not to be intimidated by their menaces, nor 
to be browbeaten by their contumely.” 

Near her hand, on a porphyry table, lay a golden bell — a 
marvel of Benvenuto Cellini’s workmanship. The countess 
took it up and rang. 

The steward answered the summons, and begged to know 
what her highness was pleased to command. 

“ Let the palace-doors be thrown open, that the people may 
know how little I fear their dislike. Send all the lackeys out, 
and let them announce to the court that to-day I hold a special 
levee, and that my rooms will be opened to visitors at nine this 
evening. Let the equerry be informed that in half an hour I 


THE STATE RECEPTION. 


43 


shall take a drive in my open caleche, with six horses and two 
outriders, all in livery of state.” 

The steward bowed and left the room. When he had gone, 
the countess again addressed her son : u In half an hour the 
court will be assembled at the Pre aux Clercs ; no doubt it 
would gratify more than one of those envious Parisians were 
I absent to-day. But they shall not enjoy any such satisfac- 
tion. They shall greet me as usual, and I— I — I intend to ap- 
proach the king ! ” 

“ And I, dearest mother,” said Eugene, “ beg to be allowed 
to accompany you in your ride.” 

“ You shall do so, son of my heart,” exclaimed Olympia, 
giving him her hand. “ I see that you are not only the child 
of my love, but bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. Yes, 
Eugene, you shall be my knight, and no loving maiden was 
ever prouder of her cavalier than I shall be of mine! ” 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE STATE RECEPTION. 

The commands of the countess were promptly obeyed. All 
Paris (that is, the Paris of the aristocracy) were informed that 
a special reception would be held at the Hotel de Soissons, and 
messengers were dispatched with official announcement of the 
same to the royal household. The ponderous gates were flung 
wide open to admit the carriage of state. Eugene’s superb 
gelding was led out by his jockey; while near the open por- 
tiere stood the equerry whose office it was to hand the countess 
to her carriage. 

Her turnout was magnificent. The frame of the carriage 
was of dead gilt, while above the burnished wheels rose its 
body, in shape and color like the wonderful lily of the Ama- 
zon. Its exterior of snowy whiteness was relieved by the rich 
coloring of the arms of Carignan and Soissons emblazoned on 
the panels ; the interior was cushioned with purple velvet em- 
broidered in gold. To this sumptuous vehicle were harnessed 


44 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


six white horses, whose head-gear of velvet was adorned with 
ostrich-plumes so delicate, that, as the air breathed upon them, 
they looked like wreaths of snowy vapor. Perched high above 
the hammer-cloth, which in color and material corresponded 
with the inner decorations of the carriage, sat the chubfaced 
coachman, his head buried in the vast expanse of a flowing 
wig, and surmounted by a gold-and-purple cocked hat. The 
handle of his coach-whip was of steel inlaid with gold, and he 
flourished it with as much ostentation as if it had been the 
baton of a field-marshal. Behind this princely equipage were 
two footmen in state livery ; on either side were two out- 
riders. 

The countess emerged from her palace-doors, clad in mantle 
of sky-blue velvet bordered with gold. She was followed by 
the prince, who, as the equerry advanced to assist his mistress, 
gently waved him away, and took his place. Olympia smiled 
fondly upon her son, and with graceful negligence sank back 
among her luxurious cushions. 

The equerry approached for orders. “ Let the coachman 
drive leisurely through the streets, and still more slowly when 
we enter the Pre aux Clercs.” 

Eugene mounted his impatient gelding, and his mother, 
inclining her head to the equerry, gave the signal for their 
departure. 

Slowly went the cortege, through the Rue des Deux Ecus 
and along the Quartier St. Honore, while from every house, 
as they passed, the windows were cautiously opened, and 
sneering faces looked down upon the vain pomp with which 
Olympia de Soissons would have sustained the falling ruins 
of her good name. 

But things grew worse, when the outriders would have 
opened a passage for the carriage through the crowded streets. 
As soon as the people recognized the liveries, all the conven- 
tional homage with which they were accustomed to greet such 
splendor, was transformed into scorn. 

“ The poisoner ! the poisoner ! ” they cried. “ She braves us 
in the open streets ! Away with her ! Away with the accom- 
plice of La Voisin ! ” 

The object of all this contumely preserved an appearance 


THE STATE RECEPTION. 


45 


of consummate indifference to it all ; but her son ! her un- 
happy son blushed with shame and anger. He turned his 
sympathizing eyes upon her, whom he believed to be an imper- 
sonation of every feminine virtue, and she replied to his glance 
by an unconscious smile. 

At last they reached the Pre aux Clercs, the fashionable 
promenade of the day. Here the aristocracy were accustomed 
to drive, the king and queen invariably appearing there to 
receive, sometimes, in the case of the former, to pay homage. 
How often had he leaned upon the carriage of Olympia, while 
princes and princesses of the blood had been obliged to wait 
behind, until the Countess de Soissons was ready to move on, 
and allow them to proceed ! And how they had flattered and 
praised, and curried favor with the divinity of the hour ! 

“ It must all be enacted anew,” thought the ex-favorite, as 
she slightly raised her head to see if the king was in sight. 
“ The philter will work : from the moment I catch his eye, he 
is mine! This was La Voisin’s promise.” 

Yes — the royal equipages were there, at the other end of 
the shaded avenue, and* following in their wake, were those 
of the court. Olympia cast aside her nonchalance, and raised 
her head that she might be seen. The crisis had come ! She 
was now to quaff the intoxicating drink of success, or drain 
the poisoned chalice of defeat ! 

She could see the very smile on his face as he whispered 
flattering words in the ear of some beauty who was in advance, 
and whom Olympia could not recognize. One moment more, 
and her equipage would pass ! He would meet her eye, and 
the passion of his youth would be rekindled in his heart, never 
more to die out ! 

But what commotion was this among the lords and ladies 
that surrounded the king ? His majesty spoke with his chief 
equerry ; the equerry sprang forward, and presently the royal 
equipages came rushing by, close, close to the caleche of the 
countess, who vainly sought to meet the eye of Louis, for he 
was conversing with the queen, and his head was turned 
away. 

Scarcely had the royal carriages been put in motion, before 
the entire cortege followed at the same rapid pace. Princes 


46 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


and princesses of the blood, — dukes, counts, and marquises, — 
duchesses and marchionesses, rushed by so swiftly that not 
one of her court friends had time to give so much as a pass- 
ing nod to her who nevertheless w T as allied by marriage to the 
reigning Duke of Savoy. 

The last equipage had just gone by. “ Is it the will of your 
highness that we follow ? ” asked the equerry. 

The countess inclined her head, and the equerry passed the 
word to the coachman : “ Follow the cortege.” But the horses 
stirred not a foot. 

Eugene repeated the order, when the coachman slowly 
shook his head. “ Impossible, gracious prince, impossible ! — 
The countess would never forgive me, and I should be despised 
by every coachman of distinction, were I so far to forget my 
duty as to suffer that an equipage bearing the ducal arms of 
Savoy should follow the carriage of a nobleman so insignifi- 
cant as the Yicomte de Charlieu. Why, he goes back but ten 
generations ! ” 

Eugene smiled and delivered the portentous message to his 
mother. 

“He is right,” replied she; “and were he wrong, it would 
avail me nothing to contend with him on a point of etiquette. 
The coachmen of people of quality are more tenacious of their 
rights than the noble families they serve. Not long ago, the 
Duchesses of Chartres and of Luynes waited four hours in the 
rain, because, having met in a very narrow street, neither one 
of their coachmen would back out, to give the other an oppor- 
tunity of passing. I must imitate their patience, and wait for 
the return of the cortege, to take my proper place.” 

The decision of the countess being transmitted to the 
coachman, he nodded approvingly. “ I thought her highness 
would understand,” replied he. “ Our place is after the Duch- 
ess de Bourbon, the sixth carriage from that of his majesty. 
The coachman of the Duke de Cheneuse knows it as well as I 
do, and he will yield us precedence as soon as he sees me ready 
to fall in.” 

They waited — the countess in perfect composure, her large 
black eyes cast upward in complete forgetfulness of the actual 
state of things around her ; Eugene, with visible annoyance 


THE STATE RECEPTION. 


47 


on his face, darting anxious and uneasy glances down the 
avenue through which the king was expected to return. And 
so passed an hour, at the end of which the avenue was still 
and empty as a desert. It now became apparent that his ma- 
jesty had selected some other route by which to reach the 
Louvre, and Olympia, awaking from her golden day-dreams, 
began to realize the exceeding awkwardness of her position. 
For the first time her heart faltered, and a cloud passed over 
her face. 

Eugene rode up to the portiere, and addressing the countess 
in Italian : “ Mother,” said he, “ if we remain here any longer, 
I shall choke with rage.” 

“ Home,” said Olympia to the equerry. M Home I Quick ! 
Urge your horses to then* fullest speed! ” 

On the evening of that eventful day, every reception-room 
in the Hotel Soissons was thrown open, and the palace front 
was one blaze of light. But the steward had been obliged to 
close the gates, and station four armed men within them, to 
protect the entrance from the rabble who had again begun to 
assemble, again begun to threaten. 

The countess was either ignorant of this unpleasant cir- 
cumstance, or she considered it beneath her notice. From her 
carriage she had passed to her cabinet, whence she had never 
emerged until compelled to make her toilet for the evening. 
Her temporary discouragement overcome, she entered the 
throne-room magnificently attired, sparkling with jewels, and 
radiant with feverish expectation. She was still upheld by 
the confidence she reposed in La Voisin’s predictions, and the 
firm faith with which she clung to the virtues of her philter. 

She could not, however, repress the scowl that darkened her 
brow, as, glancing around her vast suite of empty rooms, she 
beheld not one visitor! — no living being besides her own three 
daughters, the young Princesses de Carignan, who came for- 
ward to kiss her hand, and pay her their tribute of affectionate 
admiration. 

She paid very .little attention to their sweet flattery ; her 
restless eyes wandered from door to door, where not a form 
was seen but those of the four lackeys, who were in waiting 
to announce the distinguished guests as they arrived. 


48 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


The mocking echo of her tread, as she traversed the void 
which should have been filled with a courtly throng, sounded 
ominous in her ear, and the haughty woman began to quail. 
She had heard it said that when a ship was doomed to destruc- 
tion, no rats were ever known to leave port in its hold. Was 
she a sinking ship ? Was her doom sealed ? Once more her 
longing eyes sought the lofty, open doors, through which so 
often the court had passed to do her homage on her throne, 
and she shivered almost perceptibly. But she forced a smiJe, 
and observed to her eldest daughter : “ Our guests are unusu- 
ally late to-night. Even the Duchess de Bouillon, generally 
so punctual, has not yet made her appearance. ” 

“ Even your adorer, Marshal de Luxemburg, mamma, is 
not yet here,” returned the princess, with a smile. 

The countess looked sharply at her daughter. Why had 
she mentioned the name of De Luxemburg ? Why named 
him in conjunction with the Duchess de Bouillon ? Did Jo- 
hanna know that these two were her confidants, and that they 
were accustomed to visit La Yoisin together ? That only five 
days before, they had met in the den of the soothsayer, to have 
their horoscope drawn for the last time ? Did Johanna know 
that through De Luxemburg’s efforts Louis’s valet had been 
bribed to rob him of a lock of his hair, without which the 
precious philter could never have been distilled ? Oh, no! 
She was silly — nervous — the events of the day had disheart- 
ened her, and she w r as growing to be a craven. How should 
Johanna know her secrets ? The allusion to the marshal was 
accidental. 

The wax-lights were growing fearfully short, and still the 
invited guests tarried. Never in her life before had Olympia 
condescended to rest her gaze upon the faces of those who 
served her; to-night she could not resist an inclination to 
glance for one moment at their countenances. As she looked 
athwart those features, erst so submissive and so reverent, she 
saw significant smirks, and an expression of disdain for which 
she could have felled them to the earth. 

Meanwhile the three princesses, their lips distorted with 
forced smiles, stood around their mother, sometimes raising 
their anxious eyes to her stormy face, sometimes exchanging 


THE STATE RECEPTION. 


49 


uneasy glances one with another; but not one of them daring 
to break the oppressive silence by a single word. 

At last the painful lull was broken by a slight rustling. The 
door of the anteroom was opened, and a solitary figure was 
seen traversing the long suite of apartments. 

“ Eugene,” exclaimed Johanna. “ Our little abbe ! ” And, 
delighted to put an end to their embarrassment, the sisters 
went forward with outstretched hands to meet him. 

But Eugene could not respond to their greeting. His eyes 
were fixed upon the chandelier, under whose blaze he beheld 
a pale, sinister face, and a tall, haughty figure; his mother, 
attired with regal splendor, looking every inch a queen; but 
ah ! a dethroned queen, for her subjects had deserted her. 
and among them “ there was none so poor to do her rever- 
ence.” 

He approached her, and, as she silently extended her icy 
hand, he covered it with loving kisses. “I had hardly ex- 
pected to find my dear mother here before me,” said he, with 
a smile. 

“ Why so, Eugene ? ” asked Olympia. 

“ Because the hour for your reception was fixed for nine 
o’clock, and it has not yet struck nine.” 

“ The countess glanced quickly at the clock on the sculp- 
tured mantel-piece. “ It is almost ten,” said she. 

‘‘Your clock is nearly an hour too fast,” said Eugene, who 
had followed the direction of his mother’s eyes. And he drew 
out his own watch. 

She looked at it a moment. “ True — your watch is slow, 
Eugene. You knew, then, before you came hither, that no 
one had yet arrived ? ” 

“ Dear mother,” responded Eugene, “ you think — ” 

“ I think that you are a tender, loving son,” said she, inter- 
rupting him. “ But it is not necessary to deceive me, dear 
boy. I know that it is almost an hour past the time I had 
appointed ; but that signifies nothing. It was not known until 
late that I would receive to-night, and this is the reception- 
day of the Duchess de Luynes. My guests will naturally have 
gone thither first, and they will come later to us.” 

“ You are quite right,” replied Eugene. “ But would it not 


50 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


be better for you to retire to your cabinet and rest until the 
company arrive ? I will call you as soon as tbe rooms begin 
to fill.” 

She shook her head slowly. “ No — I remain here. It 
would be cowardly to retire now. Let us calmly await our 
distinguished guests. They will be coming very soon.” 

Eugene bowed his head in obedience to her commands, and 
stationed himself by the side of his sisters. There was another 
long silence, interrupted by the slow, inflexible strokes of the 
clock, which announced the hour of “ten.” 

Great drops of anguish stood out upon the pale, high fore- 
head of the prince, and his sisters could no longer restrain 
their tears. The countess alone looked resolute: her features 
betrayed no emotion whatever; but about her mouth there 
hovered a vindictive smile, and in her eyes there was a light 
like that which glitters in the serpent’s head that looks out 
frGm the deadly jungles of India. 

“ Would that I could breathe poison into the veins of yon- 
der staring menials at the door ! ” said she to herself. 
“Would that I could blind their staring eyes with lightning ! 
But for them I might leave this fiery furnace of shame, ar-d 
hide my face within the privacy of my own room ! ” 

A sound was heard without, and the Princess Joanna un- 
consciously clasped her hands w T ith delight, exclaiming, 
“ There comes a carriage ! ” 

The countess turned around, and glanced fiercely at her 
unsophisticated daughter. “ Is there anything remarkable in 
the sound of a carriage, that it should occasion so much joy, 
mademoiselle ? Are carriages so rare within the gates of the 
Hotel Soissons ? ” 

The door opened, and the gentleman-usher, with his gilded 
staff, appeared on the threshold. 

“ Madame la Marquise Dupont de Lanin,” cried he, and the 
lady followed the announcement at once. 

Often had the poor old marquise attended the levees of the 
Countess de Soissons, but never before had she been accorded 
so distinguished a reception. She was tolerated in the salons 
of Paris on account of her high birth and connections ; added 
to which she had a tongue in her mouth like a two-edged 


THE STATE RECEPTION. 


51 


sword, which flew hither and thither about the reputations of 
those who slighted or forgot her claims to courtesy. 

To-night she was most graciously, most cordially wel- 
comed. Like the dove which brought the olive-branch to 
Noah, the marquise was a messenger from dry land. The 
waters had subsided — the deluge of their troubles was over. 

With wreathed smiles and flattering words, Olympia came 
forward to greet her first guest. The old marquise received 
the unprecedented attention paid her without the least mani- 
festation of surprise. With her sharp old eyes, she traversed 
the empty vastness of the gilded halls that were wont to 
swarm with the creme de la creme of Paris, and understood 
the matter at once. She had scarcely had time to reciprocate 
the politeness of her hostess before two other carriages rolled 
into the court-yard and two more distinguished names w r ere 
announced by the usher. 

This time an old duchess and an equally venerable vis- 
count entered the room of state. Their social status was sim- 
ilar to that of the marquise: they belonged to the species 
whom the world is compelled to invite, but whom it detests, 
because they never have been known to decline an invitation. 
But they, too, were heartily welcomed, and, by one not ini- 
tiated in the mysteries of the hour, they would have been set 
down as the countess’s dearest friends. 

Eugene took no part in the conversation which ensued. 
He had again resumed his taciturn and unsocial demeanor, 
and now, with folded arms, he stood in the deep recess of a 
curtained window, sometimes looking gloomily out into the 
night, anon glancing at the little knot of adventurers, and per- 
sonages of doubtful reputation, who occasionally added an- 
other to the meagre group that were around his mother. 
Olympia strove to converse gayly with her assemblage of in- 
supportables, but she was chafing like an infuriated lioness. 

“ If Marianna and De Luxemburg would but come ! I 
might, at least, learn how I stand at court, and find out why 
the king returned to the Louvre by an unusual route. Heav- 
ens ! how long will I be able to smile upon these hateful 
bores ? How long sustain the burden of this insufferable lie ? ” 

The evening waned, and neither Marianna, De Luxemburg, 


52 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


nor any other member of the court circle appeared, to silence 
the apprehensions or soothe the wounded pride of the haughty 
Countess de Soissons. But late — very late — when she had re- 
linquished all hopes of another arrival, the doors were flung 
open, and the usher, in a loud voice, announced : “ His high- 
ness the Duke de Bouillon ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

HELP IN TIME OF NEED. 

Olympia, who, with three or four wrinkled old fops, and 
as many withered dames, had just taken her seat at a card- 
table, kissed her hand, and received her brother-in-law, with a 
profusion of smiles such as never before had greeted his en- 
trance into the salons of the Hotel Soissons. 

He seemed to be totally unconscious of her blandishments, 
as, with a slight inclination to the company, he came very 
close to the hostess, and, regardless of etiquette, whispered 
something in her ear. 

His communication must have been of a nature to excite 
mirth, for she threw back her head, and, laughing rather more 
boisterously than was her wont, rose quickly from her seat. 

“ Of course, my dear duke,” said she, so as to be heard by 
all who were around ; “of course you shall have the drops 
for my sister. I regret to hear that she needs them. Come 
with me to my cabinet, and you shall receive them from my 
hand. I will even taste them in your presence, that they may 
not be suspected of containing poison. Follow me, if my kind 
friends will excuse us for a few moments.” 

With a graceful bend of her head, the countess crossed the 
room, and disappeared with her brother-in-law. From the 
window to which he had retired, Eugene had seen and heard 
what was passing, and in the stern expression of the Duke de 
Bouillon’s face he had read something of more significance 
than a whispered request for headache-drops. No sooner had 
his mother left the room than he followed her, and as she was 


HELP IN TIME OF NEED. 


53 


about to enter her cabinet, he laid his hand upon her shoul- 
der : 

“ Pardon, dear mother,” said he, in fond and deprecating 
tones. ‘‘ I merely wish to say, that during your interview 
with my uncle, I will remain in the little room adjoining. 
You may want me, perchance, to execute some commission — 
it may be to bear an apology to our guests.” 

“ It will be better for Prince Eugene to take part in our 
conference,” said the duke, with his usual moroseness. He is 
the only son you have in Paris, and, as the representative of 
the family, it is proper for him to hear what I am about to 
communicate.” 

“ I consent,” replied Olympia, calmly. “ I have no secrets 
from my son, and your highness may speak without reserve 
what you have come hither at this unusual hour to say.” 

With these words she entered her cabinet, the others fol- 
lowing silently behind. The duke closed the door and looked 
around, to see that there were no other occupants of the room. 
He peered curiously at the heavy folds of the satin curtains 
which concealed the windows, and, having satisfied himself 
that no listeners lurked behind, he spoke. 

“ You are quite sure that we cannot be overheard ? ” said 
he, addressing the countess. 

“ Perfectly sure,” replied she. “ Of these walls it may be 
said, that, unlike walls of ordinary construction, they have no 
ears. Speak without apprehension. But above all things let 
us be seated.” 

“ No, madame, let us remain as we are, and hearken to 
my words. You know that La Voisin was arrested last 
night.” 

“ I know it. Monsieur Louvois brought me the news this 
morning, and it was corroborated by the rabble that attacked 
us not long after his departure from the palace. It is said that 
La Voisin is a toxicologist, and that she has been in the habit 
of selling poison to her patrons. Was this what you came 
to say ? ” 

“ With this I intended to open my communication, ma- 
dame. That La Voisin has trafficked in poisons is proved, 
and she will assuredly mount the scaffold for her crimes. But 


54 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the next point is to inquire to whom her poudre de success 
sion has been sold.” 

“Has the question been put to La Voisin?” asked the 
countess, carelessly. “They have only to inquire of her; 
doubtless she will reveal the names of her friends.” 

The duke came nearer, and looked sternly in her face. 
“The question has been asked, and it has been answered, 
madame.” 

The countess shuddered, hut recovered herself instantane- 
ously. Momentary as it was, however, Eugene had seen the 
motion, and now his large dark eyes were fixed upon his uncle 
with a look of steady defiance. 

“The confessions of La Voisin can be of no significance to 
the Countess de Soissins,” said he, haughtily. “She cannot 
have made any declaration that would compromise a noble 
lady ! ” 

“Nevertheless she has compromised one of the noblest 
names in France,” returned the duke. “She was forced to 
reveal the names of her confederates. ” 

“ Yes ! they have been as cruel as they were to poor Brin- 
villiers; they have taken her to the chambre ardente ! ” cried 
the countess, in a trembling voice. 

“Yes, madame, she was taken to the chambre ardente, 
stretched upon the rack, and then she confessed.” 

“ Confessed what ? ” gasped Olympia. 

“ She confessed to have sold her poudre de succession ; to 
have foretold the future, and to have prepared love-philters.” 

“ I do not know that there is treason in drawing horoscopes 
and brewing love-philters,” returned the countess, with a 
forced laugh. 

“ It is treason to brew love-philters, when they are designed 
to take effect upon the King of France,” replied the duke. “ It 
is also treason to steal a lock of his hair wherewith to prepare 
the philter.” 

“ Did she say this ? ” screamed the countess, with the fe- 
rocity of a tigress at bay. 

“ She did. The lock of hair was obtained by Marshal Lux- 
emburg, who bribed the valet of his majesty; the philter was 
prepared for the Countess de Soissons.” 


HELP IN TIME OF NEED. 


55 


“ Her tortures must then have unsettled her reason,” cried 
Olympia. “ To end her agony, the poor delirious wretch has 
confessed any thing that her executioners may have sug- 
gested.” 

“You are mistaken. When she had fully recovered her 
senses, she repeated her declaration word for word. She sig- 
nalized three persons as her trustiest confidants. Two of the 
three were her accomplices; the third is merely accused of 
having made use of La Voisin to raise the devil. The two 
who are accused of murder are Monsieur de Luxemburg and 
Madame de Soissons.” 

“ The third ? ” said Olympia, hoarsely. 

“ My own wife,” returned the duke, mournfully. “ Not 
having been accused of crime, she has not been sent to the 
Bastile; his majesty has graciously permitted her to he im- 
prisoned in her own hotel.” 

“ Not sent to the Bastile ! ” echoed the countess, with a 
shudder. “ Has — any one been— sent there ? ” 

“Yes. Two hours ago Monsieur de Luxemburg was ar- 
rested, and he is now there in a criminal’s cell.” 

The countess uttered a cry of anguish, and tottered to a 
seat, for her trembling limbs refused to support her. She put 
her hand to her head, and looked wildly around. 

“ And I ?— am I to be arrested ? ” 

“Yes, madame. The lettre de cachet has been sent by 
Louvois to the king, and — ” 

“And the king! ” said Olympia, almost inaudibly. 

“His majesty has signed it.” 

The countess pressed her hands upon her heart, and then, 
suddenly springing to her feet, she burst into a loud, frenzied 
laugh. “ He has signed ! He has signed ! — And you — you — ” 
muttered she, with a scowl at the duke, “ did you offer to act 
as bailiff for the king ? ” 

As though he would have confronted a world to shield her 
from harm, Eugene threw his arm around his mothers waist, 
and stood between the two. 

“ If such be your errand, Duke de Bouillon, you must first 
be the assassin of her son. No blow shall reach her, until it 
shall have pierced the heart of her only protector ! ” 


56 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Not so grandiloquent, my little abbe,” replied De Bouillon, 
superciliously. “ Methinks, were I so disposed, I might snap 
the feeble thread of your existence, without any extraordinary 
display of valor, but I have no desire to deprive the countess 
of so valiant a knight. I come, not to arrest, but to deliver 
her. I come to save herself from the headsman, her family 
from the foul blot of her public execution.” 

“Avenging God!” murmured the miserable woman. 

“You must fly, Olympia,” continued the duke, compas- 
sionating her fearful condition, “you must fly, and without 
delay.” 

“Fly!” exclaimed Eugene, furiously. “Because a de- 
graded wretch like that La Voisin, in her delirium of agony, 
has spoken the name of the Countess de Soissons, she shall be- 
come a fugitive from justice ? No, mother, no ! Remain to 
confound your calumniators, and, with the good sword of 
Right, and Truth, pierce the vile falsehood to its heart’s 
core ! ” 

The duke shook his head. “Let not ill-advised heroism 
tempt you to defy your legions of accusers. Be you innocent 
or guilty, you are prejudged, and will be condemned. Believe 
me, the danger is urgent, and it were sheer imbecility to con- 
front it.” 

“ You say the king has signed ? ” replied she, with a vacant 
stare. Then clasping her hands, she burst into a flood of 
tears, repeating o’er and o’er the piteous words, “ Oh no ! No ! 
No ! It cannot be ! It cannot be ! ” 

“ Nevertheless, he has done it; done it at the instigation of 
Louvois and De Montespan. But mark me well, and you too, 
abbe — listen to what I am about to say. The king himself it 
was who sent me hither to warn you ; it is he who urges you 
to flight. That you may have time to escape, the lettre de 
cachet is not to go into effect until to-morrow morning. But 
the morrow is close at hand: hark! — the clock strikes eleven, 
and you have but one hour. If after midnight you are found 
within the gates of Paris, your doom is certain. The spies of 
Louvois are close at hand ; they watch before your palace- 
gates, and await the twelfth stroke of the iron tongue that 
speaks from the towers of Notre Dame, to force their way into 


HELP IN TIME OF NEED. 


57 


the very room wherein we stand. If they pasS the threshold 
of the palace you are irretrievably lost! ” 

The countess spoke not a word in reply. They scarcely 
knew whether she had understood the terrible import of the 
duke’s appeal. She had remained motionless, almost breath- 
less ; her face white as death, her large orbs distended to their 
utmost, gazing, not upon the tangible objects that were before 
them, but upon some fearful pageant that was passing within 
the shadowy precincts of her soul. 

Her lips began to move, and she muttered incoherent 
words. “ Ah ! is it so ? ” said she, almost inaudibly. u The end 
of that bright dream! The philter! What !” cried she with 
sudden energy, “ he warns me ? He grants me — one — one 
hour ! ” And then, overpowered by the reality of her supreme 
desolation, she opened her arms, and looked defiantly above, as 
if invoking the wrath of that Heaven which had forsaken 
her. 

“ Olympia,” said the duke, touching her arm, “ you have 
hut, three-quarters of an hour to quit Paris.” 

“ Dear mother,” implored Eugene, “ decide quickly whether 
you go or remain.” 

She shuddered, and, with a deep sigh, suffered her arms to 
fall listlessly at her side. 

“ I must drink of this chalice of humiliation,” said she, 
mournfully. “I must fly.” 

A groan of anguish broke from the depths of Eugene’s suf- 
fering heart, while a strange look shot athwart the counte- 
nance of the duke. The groan was that of faith that faltered ; 
the glance was that of doubt made certainty. 

“ I must make my escape,” iterated Olympia in a tone more 
resolute. “ If Louvois has effected the arrest of a woman al- 
lied to the royal family, it is because he is secure of her con- 
viction. Rather than become his victim, I will endure the 
shame of flight. Time enough remains to me for justifica- 
tion.”* 

“ Justification shall come through me ! ” cried Eugene, 
raising his right hand as though taking an oath. 

* The countess’s own words. — See Amad4e Kenee, “The Nieces of Ma- 
zarin,” p. 207. 


5 


58 


PKINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“Countess, countess,” urged De Bouillon, “you have but 
half an hour.” 

“You are right,” returned Olympia, summoning all her 
resolution to her aid. “Time is flying, and I must be dili- 
gent.” 

“ I promised his majesty not to leave you until you were 
on your way, Olympia,” was the duke’s reply, “and I shall 
remain to fulfil my promise.” 

“And I, mother,” added Eugene, “will never leave you 
until you are in perfect safety.” 

“Then let us prepare,” was Olympia’s rejoinder. “You, 
duke, be so kind as to collect my papers and money. They 
are in that ebony secretary at your elbow. Here are the keys. 
You wiU find a casket therein, where all that you find may be 
deposited for the present. I myself will gather up my jewels 
and such clothing as cannot be dispensed with. Eugene, my 
son, go at once to the stables : order my travelling-chariot, 
and see that eight of my swiftest horses are attached to it. In 
Brussels I shall find a friend in the Spanish viceroy. Send 
forward relays to Rheims and Namur ; and let the men be 
clad in liveries of dark gray. Hasten, my son ; before half an 
hour, I must be hence S ” 

When Eugene returned, he found his mother waiting. 
The duke hastily threw over her shoulders a travelling-cloak 
bordered with fur, and Olympia, drawing the hood closely 
around her face, prepared to quit the room. 

“ Shall I not call my sisters to bid you adieu ? ” asked her 
son. 

“No,” said she, calmly. “Their absence would be re- 
marked, and nothing must arouse the suspicion of my guests. 

I leave to you, Monsieur de Bouillon, the task of communi- 
cating my flight to my daughters. May I request you to bear 
a message to the king also ? Tell him that whenever he will 
pass his royal word that I may return without danger of incar- 
ceration, I shall be ready to appear before my accusers, and 
defend my calumniated reputation.* Give me your arm, — and 
yours, Eugene : we are late.” 

Silently, and without a single expression of regret, she went 
* Her own words. — See the “ Letters of Madame de Sevigne,” vol. iii. 


HELP IN TIME OF NEED. 


59 


through the lofty corridors of the hotel, until she reached the 
private staircase by which Eugene had passed to the street 
that morning. The servants had assembled to bid her adieu, 
and, as they tendered their good wishes, she bent her lofty 
head with the condescension of a queen. Before descending, 
she addressed a few words to the steward : 

“I am forced to leave Paris for a time, Latour. My ene- 
mies refuse me the poor privilege of remaining here to refute 
the absurd charges preferred against me by the senseless rab- 
ble that are in their pay. During my absence, I leave you in 
full command of my household. You shall receive your 
wages until you decide to seek employment elsewhere. Fare- 
well all!” 

The chariot with eight superb horses was at the postern, 
and around it stood the lackeys in their liveries of sombre 
gray. The countess took her seat in the carriage, and, bend- 
ing forward to kiss her son, said, “ Bear my greetings to your 
sisters, Eugene.” 

“ Will my gracious uncle accept this commission ?” asked 
he, turning to the duke. 

“ Why not you ? ” asked Olympia. 

“ Because my place is with you, dearest mother,” was the 
simple reply of her devoted child, while he took his seat at 
her side. 

“ It is right,” remarked the duke, “ and I begin to feel con- 
siderable respect for our little abbe ! ” 

“ I shall compel respect from more than the Duke de Bou- 
illon,” thought his nephew. 

“ Farewell ! ” said Olympia, with as much self-possession 
as if she had been starting for a tour of pleasure. u Tell the 
king that I forget to pity my own impotence in compassion- 
ating his.” 

The carriage rolled away, first under the illuminated win- 
dows of the rooms of state, where the unconscious Princesses 
de Carignan were doing their best to entertain the motley as- 
semblage, that had been so suddenly deserted by their mother; 
then along the dimly-lighted streets where Eugene’s heart 
beat with painful apprehension lest the crowd should rec- 
ognize the fugitive ; then they entered the avenue where the 


60 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


court had turned its back upon Olympia and her extravagant 
hopes, and at last — they reached the gates. 

Meanwhile the Duke de Bouillon had returned to the salons , 
where he announced the departure of the countess to her 
guests ; the servants had dispersed, and returned to their usual 
employments, all except one, who crept stealthily out, and, 
turning the corner, advanced a few paces into a dark and nar- 
row alley. Two horsemen were waiting his appearance there. 

“ Has she gone ? ” asked one. 

“Yes,” replied the man ; “and relays have been ordered to 
hasten her escape.” 

“ What route did she take ? ” 

“ She goes to Brussels, by the way of Rheims, Rocroy, and 
Namur.” 

“ Here are your four louis d’ors.” 

With these words, the two horsemen galloped away, turn- 
ing their horses’ heads toward the palace of the minister of 
war. In the porte-cochere stood Louvois himself, who, motion- 
ing them not to dismount, spoke a few low words, and then 
handed to each one a package of letters and a purse of gold. 

“Fly with all speed,” said he, in his parting injunctions. 
“Kill as many horses as you list— I pay for their carcasses ; 
hut see that at every station you arrive a full hour before the 
countess.” 

He then entered his carriage, and drove to the Louvre to 
inform the king that his royal commands had been obeyed, 
and that the Countess de Soissons had been suffered to escape. 

As the chariot that was bearing away the disgraced Olympia 
drove through the barrier and entered upon the high-road, the 
two horsemen galloped past, and so completely did they dis- 
tance the unhappy travellers, that in a few moments the echo 
of their horses’ feet had died away into silence. 


THE FLIGHT. 


61 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FLIGHT. 

It was a glorious night — a night of sapphire skies, radiant 
with stellar diamonds — one of those nights whose beauty in- 
tensifies pleasure, and whose gentle influence soothes pain ; 
which, to the joyous heart seem to prefigure heaven ; to the 
sorrowing are like the healing touch of the Almighty hand, 
which, in exceeding love, has stricken it with a passing pain. 

But not a ray of hope or consolation refreshed the dreary 
wastes of the heart of Olympia de Soissons. She had with- 
drawn herself from the embrace of her son, and leaned far 
back into the corner of the carriage. But for the glare of her 
large, black eyes, as they reflected the light of the lamps on 
either side, she might have been asleep, so motionless she lay ; 
but, whenever Eugene turned a timid glance upon her rigid 
features, he saw that she seemed ever and ever to be looking 
away from him, and far out upon the black and shapeless 
masses of the woods through which they journeyed all that 
night. 

He had tried to divert her by conversation ; but to his re- 
marks she had made such curt and random replies, that he 
desisted, and left her to the bleak solitude of her own reveries. 

And thus they passed the night. With fresh relays of 
eight spirited horses, they travelled so swiftly, that when 
morning dawned, the lofty towers of the Cathedral of Rheims 
were seen looming through the mist, and the coachman drew 
up before the gates. 

But, although a courier had been sent in advance to order 
it, no relay was there. The coachman turned to Eugene for 
instructions. 

“ This is most unfortunate,” replied he, “ for it compels us 
to enter the city and change horses at the royal post-house. 
While arrangements are being made there, will it please my 
dear mother to leave her carriage and partake of some refresh- 
ment ? ” 

The countess replied with a silent bend of the head, and 


62 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Eugene sent forward a courier, with orders to have breakfast 
prepared. The carriage passed the old Roman gate, and en- 
tered the city, made famous by the coronation of so many 
kings of France. The rattle of the wheels over the rough 
stone pavement made the countess start with apprehension of 
she knew not w T hat, and she withdrew cautiously from sight. 

“It is well that the roll of this clamorous carriage cannot 
awaken our foes,” said she, as they stopped before the post- 
house. 

Her rejoicings were premature ; for the master of the post- 
horses came leisurely forward, his face expressing a mixture 
of rude curiosity with careless contempt. 

“ You want post-horses ? ” asked he, with a familiar nod. 

Eugene’s large eyes flashed fire. “ It would appear,” said 
he, “ that you do not know to whom you have the honor of 
speaking, or else you would remove your hat.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know who you are,” answered he, insolently. 
“ That is the Countess de Soissons, and you are the little abbe, 
her son. But I keep on my hat, for it is cool this morning, 
and it suits me not to remove it.” 

“ It suits you, then, to be a boor, a barefaced — ” 

“Peace, Eugene ! ” interrupted Olympia, in Italian ; “ peace, 
or you will cause me some detention that may imperil my life. 
See ; in spite of the undue hour, how many men are around 
our carriage. They are not here by accident. Their presence 
only proves that Louvois’ couriers have anticipated us ; and if 
ever we hope to pass the frontiers of France, we must be dis- 
creet. ” 

“ And I may not, therefore, chastise this varlet ! I must sit 
tamely by while he insults my mother ! ” 

“He is but a tool, Eugene. Spare the instrument, and 
strike the hand that directs it against me.” 

“ By the Eternal God, I will smite that hand ! ” said Eugene, 
while the master of the post-horses stood staring at Olympia 
with an expression of familiarity that would have cost him his 
life, had she been free to take it. But sweet as the honey of 
Hybla, w r ere the words she spoke. 

“ Good sir, would you be so obliging as to furnish us with 
eight horses ? ” said she, almost imploringly. 


THE FLIGHT. 


63 


Jl Eight horses ! for that light vehicle ? It looks much as if 
you were trying to make your escape, and were sore pressed to 
move on.” 

“ I am, indeed, sorely pressed,” said she, in tones of distress ; 
“ hasten, I implore of you, hasten ! ” 

“ You cannot have them before half an hour,” said he, turn- 
ing on his heel, and re-entering the house. 

The countess now called to one of her footmen : “ Go, see 
if we can have a room and some breakfast.” 

The man obeyed, hut returned almost immediately, w T ith a 
most embarrassed expression. 

“ They have no vacant room, and say that your highness 
need not trouble yourself to leave the carriage, in search of 
lodgings, were it even for five minutes.” 

“Then go and bring us each a cup of chocolate,” replied 
the countess, with a sigh. 

The footman renewed his petition, and this time returned, 
accompanied by a woman, who, in angry haste, approached 
the unhappy fugitives : 

“ You are the Countess de Soissons ? ” asked she, with a 
bold stare. 

“ Yes, madame, I am ; and I hope you will do me the favor 
to serve us a cup of chocolate.” 

“You do — do you ? Well, I have come out here to tell 
you that I shall do no such thing. How do I know that your 
breath may not poison my cup and — ” 

“ Woman ! ” cried Eugene, springing up from his seat. 

His mother put him firmly back. “I command you to 
keep silence,” said she, imperiously. Then, resuming her col- 
loquy with the woman who stood by, with arms akimbo : “ I 
will tell you how you can oblige me without any risk to your- 
self.” 

“ How, pray ? ” 

“ Sell me, not only the chocolate, but the cups that contain 
it. I will give you a louis d’or for each one.” 

The woman’s eyes glistened with greed of gold. “ Two louis 
d’ors for two cups of chocolate ! ” said she to herself, “ that is 
a brave trade for me. You shall have them,” added she aloud, 
“I will fetch them in a moment.” 


64 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


And off she pattered with her slipshod shoes into the house. 
The countess then addressed her son, who, leaning hack in a 
corner of the carriage, sat with his head buried in his hands. 

“ Eugene,” said she, emphatically, “ if you are to accompany 
me any farther, it must be as a peace-loving abbe not as an 
irascible soldier. If you incense these people against us, your 
indiscreet zeal will cause me to be captured. I have no long- 
ing for death ; I desire to live until my son, the mighty car- 
dinal, has trampled under foot the least as well as the greatest 
of my enemies.” 

“ Oh, mother, I have not only your injuries to avenge, but 
mine ! I have the burning shame of yesterday to wipe out, 
although the wound of my humiliation can never he healed.” 

“Time — Nature’s sweet halm— heals every wound, and in 
our days of adversity let this be our consolation. To the sharp 
lash of Destiny the wise man' will bow in silence ; hut if the 
blow be from the hand of man, it is from the crucible of the 
suffering it imposes that must come the strength wherewith 
we retaliate ; from the depths of our wounded hearts that 
must spring the geysers of our seething revenge. It would 
gratify me to have you the companion of my flight, but, if in 
the impotence of your wrath you seek to defend me, it will he 
better for us to part. — Ah, here comes the chocolate ! I con- 
fess that I rejoice to scent its fragrant aroma. Let us drink, 
and afterward you will decide whether you subscribe to my 
exactions, or return to Paris.” 

The cups were cracked, without handles, and of coarse pot- 
tery— the thrifty housewife having taken care to select the 
worst of her wares to barter away. The countess smilingly 
accepted hers, and, as Eugene was putting his impatiently 
away, she took it herself from the servant’s hands. 

“ Drink,” said she, “ and hearken to a saying of our uncle, 
Cardinal Mazarin: ‘When a man is troubled in spirit, he 
must strengthen himself in body. The world is a great cam- 
paign against contrarieties with which we must daily antici- 
pate a skirmish. And above all, on the eve of a great battle, 
the soul, which is the chief, must see to it that his soldier, 
which is the body, is in a condition to do him service.’ These 
were the words of a wise man, and they are worthy of being 


THE FLIGHT. 


65 


remembered. Drink your chocolate, my son, for you well 
know that we are about to go into action.” 

He took the cup from his mother’s hand, and, without an- 
other word, emptied it of its contents. The woman, mean- 
while, had been watching her cups, lamenting their approach- 
ing destruction, which, spite of the tremendous price at which 
they had been purchased, she looked upon as a sacrifice greatly 
to be deplored. Seeing that the catastrophe was approaching, 
she stepped forward to receive her pay. In her hand she held 
a large pan of water, which she raised to a level with the por- 
tiere of the carriage. 

“ Now, madame,” said she, “ you have had your chocolate, 
give me my louis d’ors.” 

From her jewelled purse Olympia drew out two gold-pieces, 
which she offered to the woman . But, instead of receiving 
them, she cried out in a shrill voice: 

“Drop them in the water. After a few hours I may 
venture to touch the gold that has passed through your 
hands ! ” 

The crowd, whom curiosity had drawn around the carriage, 
now burst out into a shout of applause. 

“ Right, right, Dame Margot ! You are a prudent woman ! 
Nobody knows what might come of handling her louis 
d’ors.” 

Olympia smiled. “ Yes,” said she, “ you are a wise woman, 
and, as a token of my admiration for your prudence, here are 
three louis d’ors instead of the two I had promised.” 

So saying, she dropped three gold-pieces in the basin. The 
woman blushed, and looked ashamed. The crowd were aston- 
ished, and here and there were heard a few murmured words 
of sympathy. “ That was very kind, was it not ? After all, 
she may not be as bad as they say. It may all be a lie about 
her poisoning her children ! ” 

Olympia heard it, and a proud smile flitted over her beau- . 
tiful face. The woman still lingered at the carriage-door. 

“ And the cups ? ” asked she, wistfully. “ I suppose .you will 
break them, will you not ? ” 

“ No,” replied the countess, speaking so that she might be 
heard by the people. “ No, my good woman, I will not break 


66 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


them : they shall lie in the basin, so that, like the gold, they 
may be purified until you find them worthy of being used 
again ! ” 

And again her jewelled hand was extended, and from her 
slender fingers the cups were carefully dropped into the basin. 

“ Your highness,” exclaimed the woman, abashed, “ I thank 
you a thousand times for your generosity, and I hope you will 
forgive my rudeness. I would not have been so forgetful of 
the respect I owe to a lady of your rank, if I had not been put 
up to it by other people. From my heart I beg your pardon, 
madame.” 

“ You are sincerely forgiven,” replied Olympia, gently. “ I 
am accustomed to contumely, and when unjustly persecuted 
I follow the example of my Saviour — I forgive those that hate 
and revile me.” 

“ Did you hear that ? ” whispered the multitude one to an- 
other. “ And do you mark what a beautiful countenance she 
has ? Instead of being a murderess, she may be a pious saint. 
Who knows ? ” 

“No,” cried the vender of chocolate, bravely diving her 
hand into the basin and withdrawing her louis d ? ors, “ no, she 
is no murderess, she is a benevolent, Christian lady.” 

“ She is a benevolent Christian lady,” shouted the people, 
and in less than five minutes the countess was as popular as a 
prince who has just ascended the throne. 

A third time the magic purse was drawn forth, and two 
more louis d’ors glittered in the hand of Dame Margot ! 

“ May I ask of you the favor to give this to those good peo- 
ple, that they may drink my health ? ” said Olympia. 

“You are an angel,” cried Margot, while her eyes grew 
moist with sympathizing tears. 

“ Yes, an angel ! ” echoed the crowd. “ So beautiful ! So 
good ! So bountiful ! ” 

They were still in the height of their enthusiasm when the 
half hour had expired, and the post-horses were brought out 
and harnessed. The postilion sounded his horn, and the coach- 
man cracked. his whip. 

“Long live the noble Countess de Soissons!” cried Dame 
Margot, and “ Long live her highness ! ” echoed the converts, 


THE . FLIGHT. 67 

while the carriage thundered through the streets, and the 
countess threw herself back and laughed. 

“ Miserable rabble ! ” said she, “ whose love and hate are 
bought with gold, and whom philanthropists regard as the ex- 
ponents of the Divine will ! ‘ Vox populi vox Dei ,’ forsooth ! ” 
— Then, turning to Eugene, who, during the whole perform- 
ance, had remained sullenly silent, she continued: “ Have you 
decided whether to leave or accompany me ? If the latter, it 
must be in the character of a diplomatist, whose weapons are 
sweet words and shining gold.” 

“ I go on with you, mother, as your loving and obedient 
son,” said Eugene, kissing her hand — even the one which still 
clasped the wonder-working purse. “ I have no right to de- 
spise this tiny necromancer, for, by its beneficent power, you 
have been rescued from dangers which I, a man, and not a 
coward, was impotent to avert. I submit, dear mother, to 
your dictates — no longer your champion, look upon me hence- 
forth as your subject.” 

The voice was very mournful in which Eugene made this 
profession of vassalage, and at its conclusion his eyes were 
veiled by tears of burning humiliation. His mother affected 
not to perceive his emotion, as she replied in her blandest 
tones : 

“ I thank you, my son. Your decision is a most filial and 
meritorious one. The two days that have just passed over 
your head have proved to me that, whatever may be your 
career, you are destined to render it illustrious’either by states- 
manship or prowess. Whether as an ecclesiastic, a politi- 
cian, or a soldier, you will certainly attain distinction.” 

“ Mother, as a soldier, I may attain distinction ; as a church- 
man, never. For the present I accept my fate; but blessed 
will be the day on which I go into the world free to feel the 
power of my manhood, and to shape my fortunes with my 
own hand. Let women rise to dignity through royal favor 
and family influence; man’s only ally should be his own 
strong arm. Far nobler to me is the lieutenant who wins his 
epaulets upon the battle-field, than the prince who is born to 
the command of an army.” 

“ Have a care how you speak such high-treason at the court 


68 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of Louis XIV.,” replied his mother. “ It would be repeated to 
his majesty, and never would be forgiven.” 

“ I hope to do many things in my life that will be repeated 
to his majesty of France — perchance some of which may never 
obtain his forgiveness,” replied Eugene, quietly. “ But let us 
speak of the present, and of you, beloved mother.” 

Olympia threw herself back against the soft upholstery that 
lined the back of the carriage. “ Bather let us speak of noth- 
ing, my child. Neither of us had any rest last night : I would 
gladly sleep awhile.” 

She closed her eyes, and finally Nature asserted her long- 
frustrated claims. In a few moments, the humiliations, the 
fears, and the sufferings of the unhappy Olympia, were 
drowned in the drowsy waters of profound sleep. 

She was not long permitted to remain in oblivion of her 
woes. Her repose was broken by the hoots and hisses of an- 
other vulgar crowd, that swarmed like hornets about the car- 
riage-windows. They had arrived at another station, where, in 
place of finding post-horses, they were met by another mob as 
vituperative as the one they had encountered before. 

Eugene thrust open the portiere, and, leaping into the very 
midst of the rioters, he drew out his pistols. “ The first one of 
you,” cried he, “ that proffers another injurious word, I will 
shoot as I would a vicious dog ! ” 

“ Hear that sickly manikin ! He is trying to browbeat 
us ! ” cried some one in the crowd. 

“ Yes, yes, trying to browbeat us ! ” echoed the chorus. 

“ Yes — by the eternal heavens above us ! ” exclaimed the 
prince, “ The first that moves a foot toward us, dies ! ” 

His eyes flashed so boldly, and his attitude was so com- 
manding, that the people, ever cowed by true courage, fal- 
tered and fell back. 

Just then Olympia opened the door on her own side of the 
chariot, and, without the slightest manifestation of fear or an- 
ger, stepped to the ground, and, with one of her bewitching 
smiles, made her way to the very center of her foes. Her 
voice was soft and low, but, to a practised ear, it would have 
seemed like that of a lioness, who, forced to temporize, was 
longing to devour. 


THE FLIGHT. 


69 


“Good people,” said the leonine siren, “pardon the iras- 
cibility of this young man. He is my son, and, when he heard 
his mother’s name aspersed, his anger got the better of his dis- 
cretion. Is it not true,” continued she, turning to a woman 
who had been most vociferous in her maledictions, “ is it not 
true, dear friend, that a son is excusable who grows indignant 
when he hears his mother accused of deeds the very thought 
of which would fill her with horror ? Perhaps you, too, have 
a son that loves you, and who, knowing you to be a good and 
pious woman, would never suffer any man to attack your 
good name.” 

“ Yes,” replied the woman, entirely propitiated, “ yes, ma- 
dame, I have a son who certainly would defend my good name 
against any man that attacked it.” 

“Then you will make allowances for mine, and speak 
a kind word for him to your friends here, for we mothers 
understand one another, do we not ? And any one of us is 
ready to shelter the good son of some other woman ? Are we 
not ? ” 

“ That we are,” returned the woman, enthusiastically. “ I 
will protect your son, never fear.” And, with her arms up- 
raised, she dashed through the crowd, and addressed those who 
were nearest to Eugene, and who, partially over their panic, 
were just about to remember that they were many against their 
one opponent. 

“ Let him alone ! ” cried she. “ He is her son ! You see 
that we have been deceived by those who told us that she had 
poisoned her children. How should this one love her, if she 
were so wicked ? ” 

“Dear friends,” cried Olympia, so as to be heard by all 
around, “ you have been shamefully imposed upon, if you 
were told that I poison ed my dear children : I have given birth 
to seven, who are all alive to testify that their poor mother is 
innocent.” 

“All seven alive! Seven children, and not one dead!” 
exclaimed the “dear friend” whom Olympia had specially ad- 
dressed. “ Just think of that ! Why, of course she is inno- 
cent.” 

And here and there the shrill voices of the women were 


70 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Heard repeating the words, “ She is innocent, of course she is 
innocent ! ” 

“ You perceive, then,” continued the countess, pursuing her 
advantage, “ that I have powerful enemies, since they precede 
me on my journey with slanderous falsehoods, and try to turn 
the honest hearts of the villagers of France against me and 
my son. I see that they have been here, and have bribed you 
to insult me.” 

“That is true,” cried a chorus of rough voices. “ We were 
paid to insult you and to refuse you post-horses.” 

“ Well, then,” returned Olympia, with one of her most en- 
chanting smiles, “ I, too, will give you money, but it shall not 
be to bribe you to resent my injuries. It will be to dispose of 
as your kind hearts deem best.” 

She threw out a handful of silver, for which some began to 
stoop and scramble, while others, emboldened by the sight of 
such a largesse, crowded around, stretching out their hands 
for a “ souvenir.” 

“ Whoever, at the expiration of fifteen minutes, furnishes 
me eight fresh horses, shall receive eight louis d’ors as a token 
of my gratitude,” said the sagacious Olympia. 

No sooner were the words spoken, than every man there 
flew to earn the token. In less than a minute the ground was 
cleared, and naught was to be seen but a few women and 
children, still bent upon searching for the silver. 

The countess returned to her carriage, where she found Eu- 
gene, looking embarrassed and ashamed. He immediately 
apologized for his involuntary disregard of her injunctions. 

“ Dear mother, forgive me ; in this last dilemma I have 
conducted myself like a madman, while you have shown that 
you possess true heroism. I see how very much wiser you are 
than I ; and I solemnly promise to attempt no more violence, 
where personal violence is not offered to us. But to say that 
I could exchange my weapons for yours, I cannot. I never 
shall learn to dissimulate and flatter.” 

His mother slightly raised her shoulders. “ You will learn 
it in time, when you will have learned to despise your fel- 
lows as I do. — But see! Heaven be praised, here come the 
horses.” 


THE PARTING. 


71 


In a few moments, eight brown hands were outstretched to 
receive the gold, and, amid the huzzas of the multitude, the 
Countess de Soissons pursued, her journey. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE PARTING. 

Eugene looked gloomily out of the carriage-window, and 
heard a succession of deep sighs. 

“ Shall I tell you why you are so sad ? ” said Olympia to 
her son. 

“I am sad because I feel my miserable impotence,” replied 
he, moodily. “ I am sad because I must at last acknowledge 
that Mazarin was right when he said that gold was the only 
divinity devoutly worshipped on earth.” 

“ Speak not slightingly of gold,” cried Olympia, laughing ; 
“ it has probably saved my life to-day. Unluckily we are far 
from the end of our journey, and I may not have enough of 
this precious gold wherewith to purchase forbearance as 
we go.” 

“We are not far from the frontier, and once in Flanders, 
you are safe.” 

“ Not so. There are no bounds to the realms of this yellow 
divinity. Its worshippers are everywhere, and Louvois will 
seek them in France and out of it. But I think I have a device 
whereby we may outwit our mighty oppressor, and avoid fur- 
ther contumely.” 

“ What is it, mother? ” 

“ I will take another and a less public road. You shall go 
with me as far as the boundaries. We can pass the night at 
Rocroy, and part on the morrow: you to retrace your steps, I 
to continue my flight in a plain carriage, with two horses and 
no attendants.” 

“ I have promised to submit, and will obey you implicitly,” 
returned Eugene, respectfully. “ Since you command me to 
go, we will part at Rocroy.” 


72 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ All ! ” sighed the countess, “ I would we were there, for 
indeed I am exhausted, and yearn for rest.” 

Many hours, however, went by, before they reached Rocroy, 
and, wherever their need compelled them to stop, they met with 
the same insults ; the same efforts were to be gone through, to 
propitiate the rabble; and Eugene was forced to endure it all, 
while his martyred heart was wrung with anguish that no 
words are adequate to picture. 

At last, to the relief of the prince, and the great joy of his 
mother, who was almost fainting with fatigue, the fortress was 
reached, the foaming horses were drawn up, and the officer in 
command was seen coming through a postern, followed by six 
of his men. 

It was the custom in France to search every vehicle that 
left the frontier ; and, in compliance with this custom, the offi- 
cer advanced promptly to meet the travellers. The countess 
had so often submitted to this formality, that when her name 
and destination w r ere asked, she avowed them both without the 
least hesitation. 

“ I hope,” added she, “ that the declaration of my name and 
rank will exempt me from the detention usual in these cases, 
for I am in great haste, and you will oblige me by ordering 
the gates to be opened at once.” 

“ I am sorry to disoblige your highness,” replied the officer, 
with a supercilious smile, “ but that very declaration compels 
me to refuse you egress through the gates of Rocroy.” 

“What in Heaven’s name do you mean, sir?” exclaimed 
Olympia, alarmed. 

“I mean that Monsieur Louvois’s orders are express that 
the Countess de Soissons shall not be suffered to pass the for- 
tress, and his orders here are paramount.” 

With these words the officer turned his back, made a sign 
to his men, and in less than a minute the party had disap- 
peared, and the inexorable gates had closed. 

The countess sighed wearily. “ Let us go farther,” said 
she. “ In the next village we will at least find lodgings, and 
rest for the night.” 

The horses’ heads were turned, and the tired animals urged 
on, until a neighboring town had been reached, whose stately 


THE PARTING. 73 

inn, with its brightly-illuminated entrance, gave promise of 
comfortable entertainment for man and beast. 

Three well-dressed individuals stood in the lofty door- way, 
and as the carriage drove up they came forward to meet it. 
Eugene, shielding his mother from sight, asked if they could 
alight to sup and lodge there for the night. 

“ That depends upon circumstances,” replied one of them. 
“ You must first have the goodness to give us your name.” 

“ My name is nothing to the purpose,” cried Eugene, im- 
patiently. “ I ask merely whether strangers can be accommo- 
dated with supper and beds in this house.” 

“ The name is every thing, sir, and, before I answer your 
inquiry, I must know it — unless, indeed, you are anxious to 
conceal it.” 

“ A Prince de Carignan has never yet had reason to conceal 
his name,” said Eugene, haughtily. 

“ Ah ! your highness, then, is the Prince de Carignan ! And 
may this lady in the corner there be your mother, the Countess 
de Soissons ? ” 

“Yes — the Countess de Soissons; and now that you are 
made acquainted with our names — ” 

“ I regret that I cannot receive you,” interrupted the host. 
“ Were you alone, my house and every thing within my doors 
would be at the service of the Prince de Carignan, but for his 
mother we have no accommodation. We are afraid of noble 
ladies that use poison.” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before he sprang 
up the steps, and closed the doors of the inn in their faces. 

“ Ah ! ” muttered Olympia, between her teeth, “ such cruelty 
as this is enough to drive any one to the use of poison ! And 
if I live I will be revenged on yonder churl that has sent me 
out into the darkness, denying me food and rest ! ” 

“ Whither will your highness go now ? ” asked the footman ; 
and, by the tone of the inquiry, Olympia felt that her menials 
were rapidly losing all respect for a “ highness ” that could no 
longer command entrance into a public inn. 

“ Take a by-way to the next village, and stop at the first 
peasant’s hut on the road. ” 

The coachman was growing surly, and the poor, worn-out 
6 


I 


74 PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 

horses were so stiff that they could barely travel any longer. 
The village, however, was only a few miles off, so that they 
were not more than an hour in reaching a miserable hovel, at 
the door of which was a man in the superlative degree of as- 
tonishment. He, at least, had never heard of Louvois and 
Louvois’s orders, so that, for the promise of a gold-piece, he 
was easily induced to receive the desponding party. But his 
only bed was of straw, and he feared their excellencies would 
not be satisfied with his fare. 

“ My friend,” said Olympia, “ to an exhausted traveller a 
litter of straw is as welcome as a bed of down ; ” and, with a 
sigh of relief, she took the arm of her son, and entered the hut. 

“ Are you married ? ” asked she, taking her seat on a wooden 
stool, near the chimney. 

“Yes; and here is my wife,” said he, as a young woman, 
blushing and courtesying, came forward to welcome her dis- 
tinguished visitors. 

“ Have you a wagon and horses ? ” continued the countess. 

“ A wagon, your excellency, but no horses : we have two 
sturdy oxen, instead.” 

“Would you like to earn enough money to-night to buy 
yourself a handsome team ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, we would,” cried husband and wife simul- 
taneously. 

“ Then,” said Olympia to the latter, “ sell me your Sunday- 
gown, let me have something to eat, and throw down some 
clean straw in the corner, where I may sleep for a few hours. 
When I awake,” added she to the man, “ harness your oxen, 
and take me in your wagon beyond the frontier, to Flanders. 
If you will do this, you shall have fifty louis d’ors for your 
trouble.” 

The peasant grinned responsive. “ That will I,” cried he, 
slapping his thigh ; “ and, if you say so, I’ll take you as far as 
Chimav, which is a good way beyond the frontier.” 

“ Right,” said the countess, joyfully. “ To Chimay we go. 
Now, my good girl, bring me your best holiday-suit.” 

The young woman ran, breathless with joy, to fetch her at- 
tire, while the man went out to feed his oxen. Olympia then 
addressed herself to Eugene : 


THE PARTING. 


75 


“ Now, my son, we are alone, and I claim the fulfilment of 
your promise. You have seen me to a place of safety, and you 
must return to Paris. Listen now to my commands, perhaps 
the last I may ever give you.” 

‘‘ Command, dear mother, and I will obey. But do not ask 
me to abandon you to the danger which still threatens you.” 

“ You exaggerate my danger, Eugene ; and, by remaining 
with me, you increase it. You are too impulsive to be a dis- 
creet companion, and I exact of you to leave me. Disguised 
as a peasant- woman, and travelling in an ox-cart, my foes will 
never discover me, and I have every hope of reaching my des- 
tination in safety.” 

“ It is impossible,” persisted Eugene, his eyes filling with 
tears. 

“ My child, must I then force you to do my bidding ? ” 

“ No force can compel me to do what I know to be craven 
and dishonorable,” cried the prince. “ Mother, I must not — 
cannot obey.” 

“ For one short moment, the eyes of the countess flashed 
fire, but as suddenly they softened, and she smilingly extended 
her hand : 

“ Well — let us contend no longer, dear boy ; I see that, for 
once, I must succumb to your strong will. Here comes the 
woman with my disguise. Go out a while, and let me change 
my dress. Send the footman with a little casket you will find 
in the carriage-box. Here is the key. And, Eugene, do beg 
the man to send in our supper, that it may be ready for us 
when I shall have metamorphosed myself into a peasant- 
woman.” 

About fifteen minutes later, the countess called her son. 
“ How do you like me ? ” she said. “ Am I sufficiently dis- 
guised to pass for that fellow’s wife ? What a strange picture 
we will make — you and I, seated on a sack of wool, and drawn 
by a pair of creeping oxen ! ’Tis well for you that you are an 
abbe ; were you any thing else, you could not venture to travel 
by the side of a woman of low degree. But — come, let us en- 
joy our supper ; I, for one, am both hungry and sleepy.” 

She drew a stool up to the table, which was spread with a 
clean cloth, and covered with platters of bread, butter, and 


76 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


cheese. Between two wooden bowls stood a large pitcher of 
milk. These bowls the countess filled to the brim, and handed 
one to her son. 

“ Pledge me a bumper, and wish me a prosperous journey,” 
said she, playfully, while she put the cup to her lips, all the 
while narrowly watching Eugene. 

He followed her example, and drained his bowl to its last 
drop. Then, striving to fall in with her mood, he said : 

“ You see how obedient I am, and yet you know that I am 
not one of those that would be content to live in a land flow- 
ing with milk and honey.” 

“ Thank you,” replied his mother, “ for this one act of obe- 
dience. I could wish you were as submissive in other things. 
But — what is the matter, boy ? You are pale.” 

“I do not know,” stammered Eugene, his tongue seem- 
ing paralyzed. “ I am sick — I want — fresh air ! Some air, 
mother ! ” 

He attempted to rise, but fell back into his seat. 

“Mother,” murmured he, while his features were becom- 
ing distorted by pain, “ have you drugged — ” 

He could articulate no longer, but gazed upon his mother 
with fast-glazing eyes, until slowly his dull orbs closed, and 
his head dropped heavily upon the table. 

“ Three minutes,” said the countes^, quietly. “ Only three 
minutes, and he sleeps soundly. La Voisin was a wonderful 
creature ! What a high privilege it is to reign over the will 
of another human being with a might as mysterious as it is 
irresistible ? And greater yet the privilege of dispensing life 
or death ! Why did I not exercise that power over the proud 
man that follows me with such unrelenting hate ? Ah, Lou- 
vois, had I been braver, I had not endured your contumely! 
Poor, weak fool that I was, not to wrestle with fate and mas- 
ter it ! But— it is useless to repine. Let me see. Eugene will 
sleep four hours, and, ere he wakes, I must be beyond the 
frontiers of hostile France.” 

She left the little room and joined the peasant’s wife. 

“I have prevailed upon my son to return to Paris,” said 
she, in that caressing tone which she had practised so success- 
fully through the day. “ His health is delicate, and the hard- 


THE PARTING. 


77 


ships of our hurried journey have so exhausted him that he 
has fallen into a profound sleep. Do not disturb him, I en- 
treat of you, dear friend, and, when he awakes, give him this 
note.” 

She drew from her pocket-book a paper, and, giving it to 
the woman, repeated her request that her dear boy should not 
he disturbed. 

“ I will take my seat at the door, madame, and await the 
wakening of Monsieur l’Abbe, to deliver your highness’s note. 
But will you too not rest awhile, before you go on? I think 
you look as if you needed sleep quite as much as your son.” 

“ No, no, thank you, I must reach Flanders before sunrise,” 
replied Olympia, “ and do beg your husband to use dispatch, 
for I am impatient to start. Will you also be so obliging as 
to call my servants? I must say a few words to them before 
we part.” 

When the men came in, their mistress, in spite of her cos- 
tume, wore a demeanor so lofty, that they were afraid to be- 
tray their cognition of her disguise, and were awed back into 
their usual stolid and obsequious deportment. 

“ You have witnessed,” said the countess, “ the persecutions 
that have been heaped upon me since yesterday, and of course 
you are not surprised to find that I have adopted a disguise by 
which I may hope to escape further outrage. You have both 
been among the trustiest of my servants, and to you, rather 
than to my son, I confide my parting instructions. He is now 
asleep, and I will not even waken him to take leave ; for he 
would wish to accompany me, and so compromise both his 
safety and mine. I therefore journey in secret and alone. 
As for you, be in readiness to return to Paris by daylight, 
and do all that you can for the comfort of my son on the way.” 

“I served his father,” replied the coachman, “and will do 
my duty by his son, your highness. Rely upon me.” 

“ And I,” added the footman, “ will do my best to deserve 
the praise your highness has so kindly vouchsafed to us, by 
serving my lord and prince as faithfully as I know how.” 

“Right, my good friends. You will always find him, in 
return, a gracious and generous master. You will have no 
difficulty in procuring relays or lodging on your return to 


78 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Paris : oblige me, then, by travelling with all speed, for it is 
important that my son arrive quickly. And now' farewell, 
and accept this as a remembrance.” 

Dropping several gold-pieces into the hands of each one, 
their proud mistress inclined her head, and passed out of the 
hut. 

“ If your highness is ready,” said the peasant’s wife, meeting 
her on the threshold, “ my husband is in his wagon waiting.” 

“ In one moment,” replied Olympia ; u I must return to take 
a last kiss from my son.” 

She hastened back to the little room, and, stepping lightly, 
advanced to the table, where Eugene, his head supported by 
his arms, lay precisely in the position wherein she had left 
him. She lifted the masses of his shaggy, black hair, and 
gazed wistfully upon his pale face. “ And if the stars are not 
false,” whispered she, tenderly, “ this feeble body enshrines a 
mind that shall win renown for the house of Savoy. God 
bless thee, my fragile, but great-hearted Eugene ! As I gaze 
upon thy pallid brow, my whole being is inundated by the 
gushing waters of a love which to-night seems more than 
maternal! So should angels love the sons of men! Take 
from my lips the baptismal kisses that consecrate thee to 
glory ! May God bless and prosper thee, my boy ! ” 

She bent over the sleeping youth and kissed his forehead 
o'er and o’er. When she raised her head, among the raven 
masses of Eugene’s hair there trembled here and there a tear, 
perhaps the purest that ever flowed from the turbid spring of 
Olympia de Soisson’s corrupt heart. 

One more kiss she pressed upon his clasped hands, and then 
she hurried away. The cart was before the door ; she took 
her seat, and slowly the creeping oxen went out into the dark- 
ness, bearing away with them a secret which, to the wonder- 
ing peasant- woman, was like Jove’s descent to the daughter of 
Acrisius.* 

Four hours passed away, and the power of the drugged cup 

* Louvois’s hate pursued the Countess de Soissons to Brussels, where the 
beggars were bribed to insult her as she passed them in the streets. She was 
so persecuted by the rabble that, on one occasion, when she was purchasing 
lace at the convent of the Beguines, they assembled in such multitudes at the 


THE PARTING. 


79 


was at an end. Day was breaking, and, although by the un- 
certain light of the gray dawn, no object in that poor place 
was clearly defined, still everything was visible. Eugene raised 
his head and looked, bewildered, around the room. He saw at 
once that his mother was not there, and with a gesture of wild 
alarm he sprang to his feet. 

“ Mother, my mother! ” exclaimed he. 

The door opened, and the smiling peasant with a deep 
courtesy came forward to wish his highness good-morning. 

u Your mother, excellency, has been gone these four hours,” 
said she. 

“ Gone ! Gracious Heaven ! whither, and with whom ? ” 

“ She went to Flanders, excellency, with my husband. Do 
not feel unhappy, sir, I beg of you ; my husband is a good, pru- 
dent fellow, and he will take her safely to Chimay. Here is a 
paper she left for you, and she bade me say that, as soon as I 
had given you an early breakfast, you would return with your 
servants to Paris.” 

Eugene clutched at the note, and returned to the table to 
read it. Its contents were as follows : 

“ My dear child, you would not obey me, and yet I could 
no longer brook the danger of your attendance. Although I 
am no adept in the art of poisoning, yet I have learned from 
La Voisin to prepare harmless anodynes, one of which I min- 
gled with the cup of milk you took from my hand to-night. 
You sleep, dear Eugene, and I must go forth to meet my 
fate alone. Your knightly repugnance to what you looked 
upon as a desertion of your mother,' has forced me to the use 
of means which, though perfectly innocent, I would rather not 
have employed. I knew no other device by which to escape 
your too loving vigilance. 

entrance, that the nuns, to save her from being torn to pieces, were com- 
pelled to permit her to remain with them all night. Finally the governor of 
Netherlands was driven to take her under his own personal protection, by 
which it became unlawful to molest her further. After the governor became 
her champion, the prejudices of the people wore gradually away, until at last 
Olympia held her levees as she had done in her palmy days at the Hotel de 
Soissons— See Abb6 de Choisy : Memoires, p. 224. Renee : “ Les Nieces de 
Mazarin,” p. 212. 


80 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Go back to Paris, my Eugene, and go with all speed, for 
there you can protect, there alone you can defend me. There 
are my enemies ; and, although I dedicate you to the church, 
I would not have you put in practice that precept of the Scrip- 
tures which enjoins upon you to forgive your traducers, and 
bless those who despitefully use you. No, no ! From my son’s 
hand I await the blow that is to avenge my wounded honor 
and my blasted existence. Farewell ! The spirit of Mazarin 
guide you to wisdom and success! Olympia.” 

“I will avenge you, my own, my precious mother,” said 
Eugene, his teeth firmly set with bitter resolve. “ The world 
has thrown its gauntlet to us, and, by Heaven I will wear it 
on my front ! I have swept the dark circle of every imagina- 
ble sorrow, and my soul is athirst for strife. ’Tis a priestly 
office to vindicate a mother’s good name, and I shall be the 
hierophant of an altar whereon the blood of her enemies shall 
be sacrificed. And now, dear maligned one,” continued he, 
kissing the words her hand had traced, “ farewell ! Thou wert 
my first passionate love, and in my faithful heart nothing ever 
shall transcend thee ! ” 

Half an hour later he was on the road to Paris ; but, desir- 
ous to escape notice, Eugene travelled without footmen or out- 
riders, and confined himself to a span of horses for his car- 
riage. The simple equipage attracted no attention, and no 
one attempted to peer at its silent occupant, so that on the 
morning of the next day he had arrived in Paris. 

It was a clear, bright morning, and perchance this might 
be a reason why the streets were unusually crowded ; but as the 
prince was remarking what a multitude were astir to enjoy the 
beauty of a sky that was vaulted with pale-blue and silver, he 
observed at the same time that all were going in one direction. 
The throng grew denser as the carriage advanced, until it 
reached the Pue des Deux Ecus, when it came to a dead stop. 
And after that it advanced but a few feet at a time, for the 
whole world seemed to be going, with Eugene, to the Hotel de 
Soissons. 

At last they reached the gates, and the prince was about to 
alight, when, directly in front of the palace, and within the 


THE PARTING. 


81 


court, he saw the sight which had attracted the multitude 
thither. 

Before the principal entrance of the palace were six horse- 
men, two of whom in their right hands held long trumpets 
decked with flowing ribbons. Behind these, bestriding four 
immense hosses of Norman breed, were four beadles in their 
long black gowns, and broad-brimmed hats, looped up with 
cockades. Behind these four were two mounted soldiers, 
dressed like those in front, in the municipal colors of the city 
of Paris, and in place of trumpets they carried halberds. 

As he saw this extraordinary group, who had apparently 
selected the court of the Hotel Soissons wherein to enact some 
ridiculous pageant, Eugene could scarcely believe his dazzled 
eyes. He looked again, and saw the horsemen raise their 
trumpets to their lips, while the air resounded with a fanfare 
that made the very windows of the palace tremble in their 
frames. 

The multitude, that up to this moment had been struggling 
and contending together for place and passage,' suddenly grew 
breathless with expectation, when a second fanfare rang out 
upon the air ; and, when its clang had died away, one of the 
black-robed beadles cried out in a loud voice : 

“We, the appointed magistrate of the venerable city of 
Paris, hereby do summon the Countess Olympia de Soissons, 
Princess of Carignan, widow of the most high the Count de 
Soissons, Prince Royal of Bourbon, and Prince of Carignan, 
to appear within three days before our tribunal, at the town- 
hall of our good city of Paris.” 

The trumpet sounded a third time, and another beadle con- 
tinued the summons : 

“ And we, the appointed magistrate of the venerable city of 
Paris, do hereby accuse said Countess Olympia de Soissons and 
Princess de Carignan of sorcery and murder by poison. If 
she hold herself innocent of these charges, she will appear 
within the three days by law granted her wherein to answer 
our summons. If she do not appear within three days, she 
shall he held guilty by contumacy, and condemned.” 

Scarcely had these last words been pronounced, when the 
people broke out into jubilant shouts over the fearless recti- 


82 


PKINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


tude of the honorable city fathers, who were not afraid to lift 
the avenging arm of justice against criminals in high places. 

Amid the din that followed, Eugene escaped from his car- 
riage to the private entrance, through which twice before he 
had passed in such indescribable anguish of heart. 

Not a soul was there to greet the heir of this princely house, 
or bid him welcome home. The servant, who, after his re- 
peated knockiugs, appeared to open the door, gazed at his 
young lord with a countenance wherein terror and sympathy 
were strangely mingled. 

“ Are the princesses at home? ” asked Eugene. 

“ No, your highness, they took refuge with their grand- 
mother, the Princess de Carignan.” 

“ Took refuge ! ” echoed Eugene, staring at the man in dumb 
dismay. 

“ Yes, my lord, they were afraid of the people, who have 
gathered here by thousands every day since the countess left. 
This is the third summons that has been made for her high- 
ness, and at each one the people of Paris have flocked to the 
hotel with such jeers and curses, that the poor young ladies 
were too terrified to remain.” 

“They acted prudently,” replied Eugene, recovering his 
self-possession. “Butw r here is the steward? And where are 
the other servants? ” 

“Latour accompanied the princesses, your highness, and 
has not returned. The remainder of the household have taken 
service elsewhere.” 

“ What ! my valet, Dupont? ” 

“ He thought your highness had left Paris for a long time, 
and looked for another master.” 

“ Then how comes it that you are here, Conrad? ” 

“ I, my lord? Oh, that is quite another thing. I belong to 
a family that have served the Princes de Carignan for three 
generations. I myself have served them from my boyhood, 
and if your highness does not discharge me, I shall not do so, 
were the hotel to be attacked by every churl in Paris.” 

As Conrad spoke these words, Eugene turned and looked 
affectionately at his faithful servant. “ Thank you, Conrad, 
for your loyalty and courage ; I can never grow unmindful of 


THE PARTING. 


83 


such devotion. From this day you become my valet, and if 
you never quit my service until I discharge you, we will roam 
the world together as long as we both live ! ” 

Tears of gratitude glistened in Conrad’s honest eyes. “ Then 
to the day of my death I remain with my dear lord,” replied 
he, kneeling, and devoutly kissing the hand which Eugene 
had extended. “ And I swear to your highness love and fealty, 
while God gives me life- wherewith to serve you.” 

I believe you, Conrad,” replied Eugene, kindly, “ and I 
thank you for the solitary welcome you have given me on my 
return to this unhappy house. Your loving words have 
drowned the clang of yonder trumpets without. — And now let 
us part for a while : I feel inclined to sleep.” 

The prince turned into a hall that led to his apartments, 
and entered his bed-chamber. He had scarcely taken a seat, 
and leaned his weary head upon his hand, before the trumpet 
pealed another blast, and tbe beadle again summoned tbe 
Countess de Soissons to answer before the tribunal of justice 
for her crimes ! 

The people shouted as though they would have rent the 
canopy of heaven ; and Eugene, overcome by such excess of 
degradation, burst into a flood of tears. 


BOOK II. 


CHAPTER I. 

MARIANNA MANCINI. 

For a day Eugene remained in his room, while Conrad 
kept vigil in the antechamber without. The unhappy prince 
had longed so intensely for the privilege of grieving without 
witnesses, that he felt as if no boon on earth was compara- 
ble to solitude. Not only his affections, hut his honor, had 
been mortally wounded: what medicine could ever restore it 
to life? 

And through the long night Conrad had listened to his 
slow, measured step, as forth and hack he had paced his room 
in the vain hope of wooing sleep to 

“ steep his senses in forgetfulness.” 

Finally day dawned, and Conrad then ventured to knock and 
inquire whether his lord would not breakfast. The door was 
not opened, but Eugene thanked him, and refused. The poor 
fellow then threw himself down on the carpet and slept for 
several hours. He was awakened by his father, the only serv- 
ant besides himself that had remained to share the humilia - 
tions of the family, and who now came as bearer of a letter 
from the Duke de Bouillon, which w T as to be delivered to the 
prince without delay. 

Delighted to have a pretext that might gain him admit- 
tance to the presence of his master, Conrad sprang up and 
knocked. The door was just sufficiently opened to give pas- 
sage to the latter, was hastily closed, and the bolt was heard to 
slide. But two hours later Eugene appeared, and greeted his 
two faithful attendants with a gracious inclination of the head. 

“ Now, Conrad,” said he, “ I am ready to oblige you by tak- 
ing my breakfast. Immediately after, I shall go out, and, as 

( 84 ) 


MARIANNA MANCINI. 


85 


I go on an affair of importance, order tlie state-coach, two 
footmen, and two outriders. What makes you look so blank? 
Does it seem singular that I ride in state through the streets of 
Paris?” 

“ God forbid, your highness ! ” exclaimed Conrad, “ but — ” 

“ But — ” 

“But we have no footmen — no outriders, your highness.” 

“ True,” said Eugene, “ I had forgotten. But I suppose that 
the rascals may be found and re-engaged. Go after them, 
Conrad, and — stay— where is the steward? ” 

“ He went with the princesses to the Hotel Carignan, your 
highness.” 

“ True — true — you told me so yesterday. Go to him, Con- 
rad ; bid him return and resume his duties, for the Hotel de 
Soissons must be open, and I must have a household befitting 
my rank. Be as diligent as you can, my good fellow, and let 
the carriage be before the entrance in one hour.” 

“ But first, your highness must breakfast.” 

“ And how can I breakfast if all the servants have desert- 
ed ? Or has the cook been more loyal than his compan- 
ions ? ” 

“ No, your highness ; he went with the rest, but he is in the 
neighborhood, and will be glad to return.” 

“ I am rejoiced to hear it. Fetch him, then, and let him 
provide breakfast. But, above all things, find me footmen and 
outriders. I would rather go out hungry than without attend- 
ants. ” 

“ Your highness shall have all you desire,” returned Con- 
rad, with alacrity ; and he kept his word. An hour later, the 
state-coach stood before the portal of the palace, and the out- 
riders and footmen were each man in his proper place. The 
prince had partaken of an excellent breakfast, and was ad- 
vancing to his carriage. 

When he saw old Philip, the coachman, he gave him a 
look of grateful recognition, and inquired whether he had re- 
covered from the fatigues of their uncomfortable journey. 

“I endured no fatigue, your highness,” was the old man’s 
reply. “ I was on duty, and had no right to be fatigued.” 

“ Bravely answered,” returned Eugene. “ I see that you, 


86 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


at least, are unchanged, and I may rely upon your loyalty. 
And the rest of you,” continued he, looking searchingly 
around at the captured deserters, “ you have returned, I per- 
ceive.” 

“ Your highness,” replied one of them, eagerly, u I had the 
honor of accompanying you to Flanders.” 

“ Oh, I do not allude to you, Louis. I knoAV that I can 
count upon you.” 

“ We, too, are loyal, your highness,” replied the others, 
“ and are ready to serve you from the bottom of our hearts. 
The hotel was empty, and we had supposed ourselves to be 
without places. But we are only too happy to return.” 

“ Very well, I shall have occasion to test your fidelity this 
very day. Conrad, get in the coach with me. I desire to con- 
verse with you in private.” 

Conrad dared not disobey, although to sit opposite to his 
master in a carriage, seemed to him the acme of presumption. 
He took his seat with a look of most comic embarrassment, 
and stared at the prince as though he suspected him of being 
suddenly attacked with insanity. 

“To the Hotel Bouillon ! ” was the order given, and the 
coach went thundering through the gates toward the Quai 
Malaquais. It was stared at, precisely as before, when Eugene 
and his mother had attempted to join the royal cortege at the 
Pre aux Clercs. The people sneered at the equipage and es- 
cutcheon of a countess, who, for three days in succession, had 
been publicly summoned before the tribunal of justice; but of 
the young prince, who was the solitary occupant of the coach, 
they took no notice whatever. He was not *guilty, therefore 
he provoked no curiosity ; he was not handsome, therefore he 
attracted no attention. As lonely and heart sick his head re- 
clined amid the velvet cushions, whose silken threads seemed 
each a pricking thorn to give him pain, Eugene’s resolves of 
vengeance deepened into vows, and he swore an oath of en- 
mity against his mother’s enemies, which long years after he 
redeemed. 

Conrad was perplexed, and ashamed of the honor conferred 
upon him ; but when after a long pause Eugene began to 
speak in low, earnest tones, the embarrassed expression of the 


MARIANNA MANCINI. 87 

valet’s countenance gave place to a look of interest, and finally 
lie ventured a smile. 

“ Indeed, your highness,” replied he, “ it shall be accom- 
plished to your entire satisfaction, and old Philip will be de- 
lighted to be of the party. He is already burning to revenge 
himself upon the Louvois family for taking precedence of 
carriages that have the right to go before them ; and he has 
more than once approached the coachmen of the nobles thus 
insulted, for their cowardice in suffering it.” 

“Well — you will both have an opportunity of exhibiting 
your powers to-day in the Pre aux Clercs, and I only hope that 
the court will be there to witness it.” 

“Philip will not fail, your highness, nor I either.” 

“ Thank you. There may be an affray, and perchance a 
blow or two in store for you ; but I will reward you hand- 
somely. But what is this ? The carriage has stopped, and we 
have not yet reached the Hotel de Bouillon.” 

Conrad sprang out to ascertain the cause of their deten- 
tion. 

“ Your highness,” said he, returning, “ we cannot proceed 
any farther. The street is blocked up with carriages that ex- 
tend all the way to the entrance of the hotel. Some of them 
are equipages of the princes of the blood.” 

“ Then I must go on foot, and you and Philip can profit 
by your leisure to discuss the manner of your attack. But by 
all means let it be in the Pre aux Clercs, where all these car- 
riages will be filled with occupants.” 

So saying, Eugene alighted, and hurried to the hotel. Its 
large portals were flung wide open, and streams of elegantly- 
dressed courtiers and ladies were entering the palace. In such 
a crowd, where the men were in glittering uniforms, and the 
women, resplendent with diamonds, wore long trains of vel- 
vet or satin, borne by gayly-attired pages, nobody had eyes for 
a little abbe, clad in russet gown, with buttons of brass ; so 
that Eugene was more than once forced back before he made 
his way to the state apartments. Step by step he advanced, 
until at last he reached the centre of the room, where the 
family were assembled to receive their distinguished guests. 

The duke, in the uniform of a general, stood in the midst 


88 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of the group. At his side was the duchess, the celebrated 
Marianna Mancini, the rival of Olympia de Soissons, not only 
in the affections of Cardinal Mazarin, but also in those of the 
king. When the heart of Louis had wearied of the elder 
sister, its capricious longings fluttered toward the younger, for 
whose sake he deserted La Valliere, and to whom, for a season, 
he swore every imaginable vow of love and eternal constancy. 

Marianna had gained wisdom from the experience of her 
sister. Quite convinced of the transitory nature of a king’s 
favor, she formed the bold design of capturing the hand as 
well as the heart of his majesty of France. Perhaps Louis 
fathomed her intentions, and resolved to punish her ambition, 
for he suddenly manifested a willingness to marry the Spanish 
princess, whom Mazarin had vainly endeavored to force upon 
him as a wife ; and Marianna, like her sister, sought con- 
solation in marriage with another, and became Duchess de 
Bouillon.* 

Years had gone by, but Marianna was still a court beauty, 
and she still possessed a certain influence over the heart of her 
royal admirer. She alone refused to do homage to De Mon- 
tespan, and she alone ventured to interrupt the pious con- 
versations of the king with his new favorite De Maintenon. 
When the obsequious courtiers were vying with each other as 
to who should minister most successfully to the vanity of the 
monarch that considered himself as the state ; when princes 
and princesses listened breathlessly to the oracles that fell 
from his inspired lips, the Duchess de Bouillon was not afraid 
to break their reverential silence, by conversing at her ease 
in a tone of voice quite as audible as that of his majesty. 

She stood in the midst of that brilliant throng, accepting 
their homage as though she had been born to a throne, and 
dispensing gracious words with the proud consciousness that 
every smile of hers was received as a condescension. And 
yet, in that very hour, the Duchess de Bouillon was under im- 
peachment for crime. Her summons had been sent “ in the 
name of the king ; ” but everybody knew that it was the work 
of Louvois, and everybody knew equally well that the com- 

* This is a mistake. The one whom Louis loved was Marie Mancini, 
Princess of Colonna. — Trans. 


MARIANNA MANCINI. 


89 


pliment paid to the duchess that day, was especially gratifying 
to the king, who himself had suggested it as a means of vex- 
ing his arrogant minister. 

That morning, his majesty had held a grand levee, which 
was punctually attended by all who had the inestimable privi- 
lege of appearing there. Louis received his courtiers with 
that gay and smiling affability which was the result of his 
temperament, and had procured for him from one of his ador- 
ers the surname of Phoebus. But, all of a sudden, a cloud 
was seen to obscure the face of the sun, and the dismayed 
sycophants were in a flutter to know what was passing behind 
it. The firmament had darkened at the approach of the Duke 
de Vendome and the Cardinal d’Albret. 

“ My lords,” said the king, curtly, u I am surprised to see 
you here. Methinks the proper place for you both this morn- 
ing would be at the side of your relative, the Duchess de Bou- 
illon.” 

“ Sire,” replied the young duke, “ I came to see if the sun 
had risen. I behold it now; and since the day has dawned 
on which my aunt is to appear before her accusers, I hasten 
whither duty calls, to take my place among her adherents.” 

“ And you, cardinal? ” said Louis, to the handsome brother 
of the Duke de Bouillon. 

“ I, my sovereign, am accustomed to say my orisons before 
turning my thoughts to the affairs of this world. Now that I 
have worshipped at the shrine of my earthly divinity, I am 
ready to admit the claims of my noble sister-in-law.” 

The king received all this adulation as a matter of course, 
and, without vouchsafing any reply, turned to his confessor. 
Pere la Chaise looked displeased; he had no relish for court 
nonsense at any time; but what availed his exhortations to 
humility, if his royal penitent was to have his ears poisoned 
with such abominable stuff as this ! 

Louis guessed somewhat the nature of his confessor’s vexa- 
tion, for he blushed, and spoke in a mild, conciliatory tone: 

“ Pardon me, father, if this morning I have ventured to 
permit the things of this world to take precedence of things 
spiritual. But a king should be ready at all hours to do justice 
unto all men ; and as this is the day fixed for the trial of a 
7 


90 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


noble lady of France, for crimes of which I hope and believe 
that she will be found innocent , I have deemed it proper to 
show my impartiality by upholding those who have the cour- 
age to avow themselves champions or defenders of the Duchess 
de Bouillon. Come, father, let us hasten to the chapel.” 

He rose from his couch, and, with head bowed down, trav- 
ersed his apartments, until he reached a side-door which com- 
municated with the rooms of the Marquise de Maintenon. On 
either side were long rows of obsequious courtiers, imitating as 
far as they could the devotional demeanor of the king; and, 
following the latter, came Pere la Chaise — the only man in all 
the crowd who walked with head erect. His large, dark eyes 
wandered from one courtier to another, and their glances were 
as significant as words. They asserted his supremacy over 
king and court ; they proclaimed him the ambassador of the 
King of kings. 

At the threshold Louis turned, and, letting fall the mantle 
of his humility, addressed his courtiers. 

“ My lords,” said he, imperiously, “ w T e dispense with your 
attendance in chapel this morning, and you are all free to go 
whithersoever you deem best.” 

With a slight bend of the head, he passed through the por- 
tiere and disappeared. The courtiers had comprehended the 
motive of their dismissal : it was a command from his majesty 
to repair to the Hotel de Bouillon. They hastened to avail 
themselves of the royal permission, and one and all were 
shortly after in presence of the duchess, offering sympathy, 
countenance, and homage. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE TRIAL. 

While she received her numerous visitors with cordiality, 
Marianna Mancini tempered her affability with just enough of 
stateliness to make it appear that their presence there was a 
matter of course, and not of significance. She had arrayed 


THE TRIAL. 


91 


herself with great splendor for this extraordinary occasion of 
mingled humiliation and triumph. She wore a dress of rose- 
colored satin, whose folds, as she moved, changed from the 
rich hues of the carnation to the delicate tinge of the peach- 
blossom. Her neck and arms were resplendent with dia- 
monds, and her whole person seemed invested with more than 
its usual majesty and grace. 

She saw Eugene, who was making vain endeavors to ap- 
proach her. With mock-heroic air, she raised her white arm, 
and motioned away those who were immediately around her 
person. 

“Let me request the mourners,” said she, “to give 
place to the priest, who advances to hear the last confession 
of the criminal. Poor little abbe! How will he manage 
to sustain the weight of the iniquities I shall pour into his 
ears? ” 

A merry laugh followed this sally, and all eyes were turned 
upon Eugene, who, blushing like a maiden, kissed his aunt’s 
outstretched hand, but was too much embarrassed to reply to 
her greeting. 

“ Prince,” said a tall personage coming forward, “ will you 
allow me to act as your substitute? My shoulders are broad, 
and will gladly bear the burden of all the sins that have ever 
been committed by your charming penitent.” 

“ I dare say. Monsieur la Fontaine,” replied Eugene, recov- 
ering himself, “ and they will incommode you no longer than 
the time it will occupy you to weave them into a tissue of 
pleasant fables.” 

“ Thanks, gallant abbe ! ” cried Marianna, pleased. “ You 
look upon my crimes, then, as fiction? ” 

“ Yes, dearest aunt,” said Eugene, resolutely ; “ they are, I 
heartily believe, as fictitious as those attributed to my dear and 
honored mother.” 

As he spoke, Eugene’s large eyes looked courageously 
around, to read the countenances of the men that were listen- 
ing. Whatever they might think of the mother, the chivalry 
of her son was indisputable, and no one was disposed to wound 
his filial piety by so much as a supercilious glance. 

The silence that ensued was broken by La Fontaine. “ Did 


92 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


you know,” said he, “that Madame de Coulanges had been 
summoned to trial yesterday?” 

“ Yes,” replied the duchess, “ hut I have not heard the re- 
sult. Can you tell it to us, my dear La Fontaine? ” 

“ I can. The judges paid her a compliment which I am 
sure she has not received from anybody else, since the days of 
her childhood.” 

“ What was it? ” 

“ They gave in a verdict of innocent.” 

A hearty laugh followed this satire of La Fontaine’s, and 
the duchess indulged in so much mirth thereat, that her eyes 
sparkled like the brilliants on her person, and her cheeks 
flushed until they rivalled the deepest hues of her pink dress. 

“ Ah ! ” cried La Fontaine, bending the knee before her, 
“ La mere des amours, et la reine des graces, c’est Bouillon, et 
Venus lui cede ses emplois.” * 

“ Go on, go on, fabulist! ” cried Marianna, laughing. 

La Fontaine continued : 

“ Ah, que Marianne a de beautes, de graces, et de charmes ; 

Elle sait enchanter et l’esprit et les yeux ; 

Mortels, aimez-la tous ! mais ce n’est qu’a des dieux, 

Qu’est reserve Thonneur de lui rendre les armes ! ” f 

“ Do you, then, desert and go over to my enemies ? ” asked 
the duchess, reproachfully. 

“ I ! ” exclaimed La Fontaine, rising to his feet. “ Who 
could so calumniate me ? ” 

“ Why, did not you say ‘ elle sait enchanter ’ ? And is not 
that the very crime of which I am accused ? ” 

La Fontaine was about to make some witty reply to this 
sportive reproach, when the Duke de Bouillon announced to 
the duchess that she must prepare herself to appear before her 
judges. 

“ I am ready,” was the response, and Marianna passed her 
arm within that of her husband. 

“My friends,” said she, addressing all present, “I invite 

* La Fontaine’s “Letters to the Duchess de Bouillon,” p. 49. 
t See Works of La Fontaine. 


THE TRIAL. 


93 


you to accompany me on my excursion to the Arsenal. Come, 
Eugene, give me your other arm. It is fit that the criminal 
should go before her accusers between her confessor and her 
victim.” 

“Madame,” returned Eugene, frowning, “I am no con- 
fessor. A confessor should be an anointed of the Lord, which 
I am not.” 

“ Not anointed ! ” exclaimed the duchess. “ I have an ex- 
cellent receipt for unguent given me by LaVoisin; and, if 
you promise that I shall not be made to mount the scaffold for 
my obligingact, I will anoint you myself, whenever you like.” 

“ Mount the scaffold ! ” cried La Fontaine. “ For such as 
you, duchess, we erect altars, not scaffolds. True, you have 
bewitched our hearts, but we forgive you, and hope to witness, 
not your disgrace, but your triumph.” 

And, indeed, the exit of the Duchess de Bouillon had the 
appearance of an ovation. The streets were lined with peo- 
ple, who greeted her with acclamations, as though they were 
longing to indemnify one sister for the obloquy they had 
heaped upon the other. The aristocracy, too, felt impelled to 
avenge the insult offered to their order by the impeachment 
of the Countess de Soissons. In the cortege of the Duchess de 
Bouillon were all the flower of the French nobility; and such 
as had not joined her train were at their windows, waving 
their handkerchiefs and kissing their hands to Marianna, who, 
in a state-carriage drawn by eight horses, returned their greet- 
ings with as much unconcern as if she had been on her way 
to her own coronation. 

Next to her equipage was that of the Countess de Soissons ; 
and bitter were the feelings with which Eugene gazed upon 
the multitude, who, but a few days before, had driven his 
mother into exile. He was absorbed in his own sorrowful 
musings, when the carriage stopped, and it became his duty to 
alight and hand out his aunt. 

She received him with unruffled smiles, and they entered 
the corridors of the Arsenal. Behind them came a gay con- 
course of nobles, drawn out in one long glittering line, which, 
like a gilded serpent, glided through the darksome windings 
of that gloomy palace of justice. 


94 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The usher that was stationed at the entrance of the council- 
chamber was transfixed with amazement at the sight. He 
rubbed his eyes, and wondered whether he had fallen asleep 
and was dreaming of the fairy tales that years ago had de- 
lighted his childhood. And when he saw the duchess smile, 
and heard her ringing laugh, he was so bewitched with its 
music that, instead of challenging her train of followers, he 
suffered them every one to pass into the chamber without a 
protest. 

At the upper end of the hall of council, seated around a 
table covered with a heavy black cloth, were the judges in 
their funeral gowns and long wigs, which floated like ominous 
clouds around their sinister faces. Close by, at a smaller table 
similarly draped, sat the six lateral judges of the criminal 
court, and the scribes, who were prepared to take notes of all 
that was said during the trial. 

When Marianna came in, with her cortege stretching out 
behind her like the tail of a comet, the pens dropped from their 
hands and the solemn judges themselves looked around in 
undisguised astonishment. 

The duchess, affecting complete unconsciousness of the sen- 
sation she was creating, came in smiling, graceful, and self- 
possessed. While the frowning faces of the judiciary scanned 
the gay host of intruders, who were desecrating the solemnity 
of the council-chamber with their levity, the duchess advanced 
until she stood directly in front of their table, and there she 
smiled again and inclined her head. 

The judges were still more astounded — so much so, that 
they were at a loss how to express their indignation. It took 
the form of exceeding respect, and their great black wigs were 
all simultaneously bent down in acknowledgment of the lady’s 
greeting. 

The only one among them who allowed expression to his 
displeasure was the presiding judge, Laraynie, who, with a 
view to remind the criminal that her blandishments were out 
of place, stiffened himself considerably. 

“ The Duchess de Bouillon has been summoned before this 
august tribunal to answer for the crimes wflth which she has 
been charged,” said he, severely. “ Are you the accused ? ” 


THE TRIAL. 


95 


“ My dear president,” returned Marianna, flippantly, “ how 
can you be so absurd ? If you have forgotten me, I perfectly 
remember you. You were formerly amanuensis to my unde, 
Cardinal Mazarin, who promoted you to the office, because of 
your dexterity in mending pens. Yes, I am the Duchess de 
Bouillon, and nobody has a better right to know it than you, 
who wrote out my marriage contract, and were handsomely 
paid for your trouble.” 

“ Our business is not with the past, but the present,” replied 
Laraynie, haughtily. “ The question is not whether you are 
or are not the niece of the deceased Cardinal Mazarin, but 
whether you are or are not guilty of the crimes for which you 
have been summoned hither ? — ” 

“ Which summons, you perceive, I have obeyed,” inter- 
rupted the duchess. u But I pray you to understand that I 
acknowledge no right of yours to cite a duchess before your 
tribunal, sir. If I come at your call, it is because it has 
been made in the name of the king, my sovereign and 
yours ! ” * 

“ You have obeyed the citation, because it was your duty 
l> "y0 obey it,” returned Laraynie. “ But I see here a multitude 
who have come neither by indictment nor invitation. It is 
natural enough that the Duke de Bouillon should accompany 
his spouse on an occasion of such solemn import to her safety ; 
but who are all these people that have obtruded themselves 
upon our presence ? ” 

“Did you not comply with my husband’s request that I 
might be accompanied to the Arsenal by a few of my 
friends ? ” 

“Yes — his petition was granted.” 

“Well, then,” replied Marianna, turning toward the bril- 
liant assembly that had grouped themselves around the room 
in a circle, “these are a few of my most particular friends. 
You see on my right the Dukes de Vendome and d’Albret, and 
the Prince of Savoy ; on my left, the Prince de Chatillon, and 
others with whose names and persons you were familiar in 
the days of your secretaryship under Cardinal Mazarin.” 

* The duchess’s own words.— See Renee, “ The Nieces of Mazarin,” 
p. 395. 


96 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“To our business!” cried Laraynie, angrily. “We will 
begin the examination.” 

“ First let me have a seat,” replied the duchess, looking 
around, as though she had expected an accommodation of the 
kind. There was not even a stool to be seen in the council- 
chamber. But at the table of the judges stood a vacant arm- 
chair, the property of some absent member ; and in the twink- 
ling of an eye Eugene had perceived and rolled it forward. 
He placed it respectfully behind his aunt, and resumed his 
position on her left. 

This bold act was received by the judiciary with a frown, 
by the other spectators with a murmur of applause, and by the 
beautiful daughter of the house of Mancini with one of those 
bewitching smiles which have been celebrated in the sonnets 
of Benserade, Corneille, Moliere, St. Evremont, and La Fon- 
taine. 

She sank into the luxurious depths of the arm-chair, and 
her “‘particular friends” drew nearer, and stationed them- 
selves around it. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said she, in the tone of a queen about 
to hold a levee, “now I am ready. What is it that you aiy 
curious to know as regards my manner of life ? ” 

“ First, your name, title, rank, position, age, and — ” 

“ Oh, gentlemen ! ” cried Marianna, interrupting the presi- 
dent in his nomenclature, “ is it possible that you can be so 
uncivil as to ask a lady her age ? I warn you, if you persist in 
your indiscreet curiosity, that you will compel me to resort to 
falsehood, for I positively will not tell you how old I am. As 
regards the rest of your questions, you are all acquainted 
with my name, title, rank, and position. Let us come to the 
point.” 

“ Bo be it,” replied the president, who was gradually chang- 
ing his tone, and assuming a demeanor less haughty toward 
the duchess. “ You are accused of an attempt on the life of 
the Duke de Bouillon.” 

“ Who are my accusers ? ” asked Marianna. 

“You shall hear,” replied Laraynie, trying to resume 
his official severity. “Are you acquainted with La Yoi- 


THE TRIAL. 


97 

M Yes, I know her,” said Marianna, without any embarrass- 
ment whatever. 

“Why did you desire to rid yourself of your husband ? ” 
was the second interrogatory. 

“ To rid myself of my husband ! ” cried the duchess, with 
a merry laugh. Then turning to the duke, “ Ask him whether 
he believes that I ever meditated harm toward him.” 

“ No ! ” exclaimed the duke. “ No ! She has ever been to 
me a true and loving wife, and we have lived too happily to- 
gether for her ever to have harbored ill-will toward me. Of 
evil deeds, my honored wife is incapable ! ” 

“ You hear him, judges ; you hear him ! ” exclaimed Mari- 
anna, her face beaming with exultation. “ What more have 
you to ask of me now? ” 

“ Why were you in the habit of visiting La Yoisin? ” 

“ Because she was shrewd and entertaining, and because 
she promised me an interview with spirits.” 

“ Did you not show her a purse of gold, and promised it to 
her in case these spirits made their appearance ? ” 

“ No ! ” said Marianna, emphatically, “ and that for the best 
of reasons. I never was possessed of any but an empty purse 
— a melancholy truth, to which my husband here can bear wit- 
ness. That I may have promised gold to La Voisin is just possi- 
ble, but that she ever saw any in my possession is impossible.” 

Marianna glanced at her friends, who returned her look 
with approving nods and smiles. 

“ You deny, then,” continued the judge, not exactly know- 
ing what to say next, “ you deny that you ever made an at- 
tempt to poison your husband? ” 

“ I do, and I am sure that La Voisin never originated a cal- 
umny so base. But I confess that I was dying to see the 
spirits. Unhappily, although La. Voisin called them, they 
never came.” 

“You confess, then, that you did instigate La Voisin to cite 
spirits ? ” 

“ I certainly did, but it was all to no purpose. The spirits 
were excessively disobliging, and refused to appear.” 

Another murmur of approbation was heard among the 
friends of the duchess, some of whom applauded audibly. 


98 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ You are accused not only of raising spirits, but of citing 
the devil,” pursued Laraynie, in tones of marked reproof. 
“ Have you ever seen the devil? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! He is before me now. He is old, ugly, and 
wears the disguise of a presiding judge.” 

This time the applause rang through the council-chamber. 
It was accompanied by shouts of laughter, and no more at- 
tempt was made by the amused spectators to preserve the least 
semblance of decorum. The president, pale with rage, rose 
from his seat, and darting fiery glances at the irreverent 
crowd, whom the duchess had named as her particular friends, 
he cried out : 

“ The trial is over, and I hereby dismiss the court.” 

“ What — already ? ” said the duchess, rising languidly from 
her seat. “ Have you nothing more to say to me, my dear 
President Laraynie? ” 

Her “ dear president” vouchsafed not a word in reply ; he 
motioned to his compeers to rise, and they all betook them- 
selves to their hall of conference. When the door had closed 
behind them, Marianna addressed her friends. 

“ My lords,” said she, “ I must apologize for the exceeding 
dulness of the scene you have just witnessed. But who 
would ever have imagined that such wise men could ask such 
a tissue of silly questions? I had hoped to experience a sen- 
sation by having a distant glimpse of the headsman’s axe, and 
lo ! I am cheated into an exhibition of President Laraynie’s 
long ears ! ” * 

“ Come, Marianna,” said her husband, passing her arm 
within his. “ It is time for our drive to the Pre aux Clercs ; 
the king and court are doubtless there already.” 

“ And I shall annoy Madame de Main tenon by entertaining 
his majesty with an account of the absurd comedy that has 
just been performed in the council-chamber of the Arsenal.” 

So saying, Marianna led the way, and, followed by her ad- 
herents, left the tribunal of justice, and drove off in triumph 
to the Pre aux Clercs. 

* The duchess’s own words. This account of the trial is historical. —See 
Renee, “ The Nieces of Mazarin,” p. 395. 


A SKIRMISH. 


99 


CHAPTER III. 

A SKIRMISH. 

Instead of accompanying his aunt from the council- 
chamber to her carriage, Eugene fell back, and joined two 
young men, who were walking arm in arm just behind the 
duke and duchess. 

They greeted him with marked cordiality, and congratu- 
lated him upon the presence of mind with which he had cap- 
tured the judicial arm-chair, and pressed it into the service of 
his aunt. 

“ My cousins of Conti are pleased to jest,” replied Eugene. 
“ Such praise befits not him who removes a chair, but him 
who unsettles a throne.” 

“Have you any such ambitious designs?” asked Prince 
Louis de Conti, sportively. 

“Why not?” returned his brother, Prince de la Roche. 
“ It would not be the first time that such a feat had been per- 
formed by an ecclesiastic. Cardinal Mazarin removed the 
throne of France from the Louvre to his bedchamber, and 
what Giulio Mazarini once accomplished, may perchance be 
repeated by his kinsman, the abbe.” 

“ Who tells you that I am a priest? ” said Eugene. 

“First — your garb; second, the will of your family; and 
third, the command of the king.” 

“ You forget the will of the individual most interested. 
But of that anon— I have a request to make of you both.” 

“ It is granted in advance,” exclaimed the brothers with 
one voice. 

“Thank you, gracious kinsmen. Will you, then, accept 
a seat in my carriage, and drive with me to the Pre aux 
Clercs ? ” 

“ With pleasure. Is that all? ” 

“ Almost all,” replied Eugene, laughing. “ What else re- 
mains to be done, must be performed by myself.” 

“ Ah ! There is something then in the wind? May we ask 
what it is? ” 


100 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ You will witness it, and that is all I require of you. But 
here is my carriage. Be so kind as to step in.” 

Conrad stood at the portiere, and, while the young Princes 
de Conti were entering the coach, he drew from under his 
cloak a slender parcel, which he presented to his lord. 

Eugene received it with a smiling acknowledgment. “Is 
all prepared? ” he asked. 

“Yes, your highness. Old Philip is in ecstasies, and the 
other lackeys are like a pack of hounds on the eve of a fox- 
chase.” 

“ They shall hear the fanfare presently,” returned Eugene, 
following his cousins, and taking his seat opposite to them. 

“What is that? ” asked the Prince de Conti pointing to the 
long, thin roll of white paper which Eugene held in his hand. 

“ I suspect that it is a crucifix, and Eugene is going to en- 
trap us into a confession,” returned De la Roche, who loved to 
banter his cousin. 

“We shall see,” replied Eugene, opening the paper, and 
exhibiting its contents. 

“ A whip ! ” exclaimed De Conti. 

“ Yes, a stout, hunting-whip ! ” echoed De ]a Roche. “ Are 
we to go on a fox-hunt, dear little abbe? ” 

“We are, dear, tall prince, and we shall shortly set out.” 

“ Things begin to look serious,” observed De Conti, with a 
searching glance at the pale, resolute face of his young rela- 
tive. “ You do not really intend to chase your fox in presence 
of the king? ” 

“Yes, I do. I intend to prove to his majesty that I am not 
altogether unskilled in worldly craft, and, as regards my fox, 
I intend that all Paris shall witness his punishment.” 

“You mean that you have been insulted, and are resolved 
to disgrace the man that has insulted you? ” asked De la Roche. 

“You have guessed,” said Eugene, deliberately, as he un- 
wound the long lash of the whip, and tried its strength. 

“ But Eugene,” said De Conti, earnestly, “ remember that 
such degradation is only to be wiped out with blood, and that 
your cloth will not protect you from the consequences of so 
unpriestly an act.” 

Eugene’s eyes flashed fire. “ Hear me,” said he. “ If my 


A SKIRMISH. 


101 


miserable garb could prevent me from vindicating my honor 
as a man, I would rend it into fragments, and cast it away as 
the livery of a coward. A man’s dress is not a symbol of his 
soul ; and so help me, God ! this brown cassock shall some day 
be transformed into the panoply of a soldier. But see ! The 
carriage stops, and we are about to taste the joys ineffable of 
seeing the King of France drive by.” 

Two outriders in the royal livery were now seen to gallop 
down the allee , as a signal for all vehicles whatsoever to drive 
aside until the royal equipages had passed by. 

In this manner Louis was accustomed to exhibit himself 
to the admiring gaze of his subjects, and to bestow upon them 
the unspeakable privilege of a stray beam from the “ son of 
France.” Never had he shed his rays upon a more numerous 
or more magnificent concourse than the one assembled in the 
Pre aux Clercs ; for the Duchess de Bouillon had just entered 
with her cortege, and the allee was lined on either side with 
splendid equipages and their outriders — pages, equestrians, and 
foot- passengers. 

His majesty was gazing around, bowing affably to the 
crowd, when he perceived the Duchess de Bouillon, and 
caught her eye. Louis waved his hand, and smiled; and this 
royal congratulation filled up the measure of Marianna’s con- 
tent. At that moment his face was illumined by an expression 
of genuine feeling, perhaps a reflection of the light of a love 
which had shone upon it in the golden morning of his 
youth. 

The king’s coach had gone by; following came the equi- 
pages of the royal family, and the princes of the blood : then — 

“ My dear cousin,” said Eugene, “ be on your guard, and if 
the glasses of our carriage- windows begin to splinter, close 
your eyes, for — ” 

At this moment the coach darted suddenly forward, and 
took its place behind the royal cortege. There was a tremen- 
dous concussion of wheels and shafts, a crash of broken 
panes, a stamping and struggling of horses; and, above all 
this din, the frantic oaths of the coachmen that had suffered 
from the collision . 

“What do you mean, you ill-mannered churl! What do 


102 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


you mean by driving in front of my horses? ” cried a loud and 
angry voice. 

“ What do you mean yourself, clown ! ” was the furious re- 
ply of the Jehu addressed. “ My horses were merely advanc- 
ing to take the position which belongs to them of right, and 
how dare you stop the way ! ” 

“Do you hear?” asked Eugene, with composure. “The 
drama begins, and I and my whip will shortly appear on the 
stage. It was my trusty old Philip who began the fray, and— 
it has already gone from words to blows, for it seems to me I 
heard something like a box on the ear — ” 

“You did indeed!” exclaimed the Prince de Conti; “but 
what on earth can it mean ? ” 

“ You will find out presently,” replied Eugene. “ But wait 
a moment, I must listen for my cue — ” 

“Your cue will have to be a thunder-clap, if you are to hear 
it above all this racket,” said De la Eoche, slightly lowering 
one of the windows, and looking cautiously out. “ Devil take 
me ! but it is a veritable pitched battle. These knights of the 
hammer-cloth are dexterous in the use of their fists, and every 
one of your servants, Eugene, are engaged in the fight ! ” 

The prince’s last words were lost to his listeners, for a tre- 
mendous crash drowned his voice, and something fell heavily 
to the ground. 

“This is my cue,” cried Eugene. “Come— I am about to 
make my debut.” And before he had time to rise from his 
seat, the portiere flew open, and Conrad hastily took down the 
carriage-steps. 

“ Is his coach overturned?” asked the prince. 

“ Yes, your highness, and he is inside. His footmen tried 
to get him out ; but with the help of some of our friends we 
fell upon them, and so gave them plenty of occupation, until 
your highness was ready to appear.” 

“Well — let him out, Conrad. I am ready for him! 
Come,” added he, turning to his cousins. “ Come, and let us 
survey the field.” 

In truth, the Pre aux Clercs, at this moment, resembled a 
battle-ground. Although the royal cortege had long gone by, 
the promenaders were too curious to follow ; they all remained 


A SKIRMISH. 


103 


to see the end of this turbulent opening. Every one had wit- 
nessed old Philip’s manoeuvre, and everybody knew that the 
point of attack was the carriage of Barbesieur Louvois, for the 
footmen of the Countess de Soissons had been seen to seize the 
horses’ reins, and force them out of the way. 

And now the coaches were all emptied of their occupants, 
who crowded around the spot which Eugene, with his two 
cousins, was seen approaching. They began to comprehend 
that this was no uproar among lackeys, but a serious misun- 
derstanding between their masters. The Dukes de Bouillon, 
de Laroche jaquelein, and de Luynes, the Princes de Belmont 
and Conde, and many other nobles of distinction, came forward 
and followed Prince Eugene to the field of action. The coach- 
man and lackeys of Barbesieur Louvois were trying to force 
the footmen of the Countess de Soissons to right their over- 
turned coach. Old Philip cried out that the Princes de Ca- 
rignan took precedence of all manner of Louvois of whatever 
generation, and that he would not stir. His companions had 
applauded his spirit, and both parties having found allies 
among the other retainers of the nobles on the ground, the bat- 
tle had become general, and the number of fists engaged was 
formidable. 

The tumult was at its height when the clear, commanding 
tones of Eugene’s voice were heard. 

“ Churl and villain ! ” exclaimed he, “ are you at last in my 
power ? ” 

In a moment every eye was turned upon the speaker, who, 
just as Barbesieur was emerging from the coach-window, 
seized and held ; )him prisoner. The belligerent lackeys were so 
astounded, that on both sides the upraised fists were suspended, 
while old Philip, taking advantage of the momentary lull, cried 
out in stentorian tones : 

“ Armistice for the servants ! Their lords are here to de- 
cide the difficulty ! ” 

Down went the fists, and all parties gazed in breathless si- 
lence at the pale, young David, who confronted his Goliath 
with as firm reliance on the justice of his cause as did the shep- 
herd-warrior of ancient Israel. Eugene was pale and col- 
lected, but his nostrils were distended, and his eyes were aflame. 


104 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Barbesieur’s great cbest heaved with fury, as he felt himself 
in the grasp of his puny antagonist, and turning met the 
glance of the son of Olympia de Soissons. 

For a few moments no word was spoken. The two ene- 
mies exchanged glances; while princes, dukes, counts, and 
their followers, looked on with breathless interest and expec- 
tation. 

Barbesieur now made one supreme effort to escape, but all 
in vain. With one thrust of his muscular arm, Eugene forced 
him back into the coach, his nether limbs within, his great 
trunk without the window. 

“ Miserable coward,” said the prince, “ who to escape from 
the dangers of a fray among lackeys, have taken refuge in the 
carriage of a nobleman! Monsieur Louvois will assuredly 
have you punished for your presumption ; but before he hears 
of y^r insolence toward him, you shall be chastised for the 
injuries you have inflicted upon me.” 

“ Dare harm one hair of my head,” muttered Barbesieur, 
between his teeth, “ and your life shall be the forfeit. My 
father will avenge me.” 

“ So be it ; but first, let me avenge my mother,” cried Eu- 
gene, raising his whip on high. 

“ Eugene, Eugene,” exclaimed the Duke de Bouillon, try- 
ing to reach his kinsman in time to prevent the descending 
stroke, “you are mistaken. This gentleman is no intruder 
in the coach of the Louvois; it is Barbesieur de Louvois him- 
self!” 

“ It is you that are in error,” returned Eugene, holding fast 
to his prisoner, who looked like some great monster in a trap. 
“This is not Monsieur Louvois; this is a leader of mobs, an 
instigator of riots. He is the knave that incited the people of 
Paris to malign my mother, and to stone her palace. — Here ! 
Philip ! Conrad ! Men of my household, do you not recognize 
this man ? ” 

“ Ay, ay ! ” was the prompt response, “ he is the very man 
that led on the rabble.” 

“ He is. The captain of the guard allowed him to escape, 
but before he left I promised him a horsewhipping, and I 
never break my word.— You are a villain, for you have de- 


A SKIRMISH. 


105 


famed a noble lady. — Take this ! You are a liar, for you have 
accused her of crime. — Take this! You are a poltroon, for 
while you were inciting others to violent deeds, you hid your 
face, and denied your name. — Take this! ” 

At each opprobrious epithet, the lash fell heavily upon the 
shoulders of Barbesieur, and every blow was answered by a 
cry of mingled pain and rage. The multitude looked on in 
silence, almost in terror; for who could calculate the conse- 
quence of such an indignity offered to such a family ! 

“ And now,” said Eugene, throwing the whip as far as he 
could send it, “ now you are free ! My mother’s defamer has 
been lashed like a hound, and her son’s heart is relieved of its 
load.” 

So saying, he turned his back, and joined the group, among 
whom his cousins were awaiting his return. 

“ Which of you, my lords,” said he, “ cried out that I was 
mistaken in the identity of yonder knave ? ” 

“ It was I, Eugene,” replied the Duke de Bouillon. 

“ But you see your error now, do you not, uncle ? since not 
only I, but my whole household proclaim him to be the ring- 
leader of that riot, which forced my mother into exile.” 

“ And yet he is assuredly Barbesieur Louvois,” laughed the 
Prince de Conti. 

“ Well — we shall see,” was the reply. “ He has disengaged 
himself from his coach-window, and if he is a gentleman he 
will know what he has to do.” 

And ' Eugene returned to the place where Barbesieur was 
now standing, calling out to his friends to follow him. 

“ Are you quite sure, my lords, that this individual is Mon- 
sieur Louvois ? ” 

They answered with one voice, “We are!” while all eyes 
were fixed upon the tall figure which, now relaxed and bent 
with shame, resembled the stricken frame of an old man; 
while his eyes were sedulously cast down, that they might 
not meet the glance of the meanest man who had witnessed 
his disgrace. 

“ I am still incredulous,” said the prince. “ But I reaffirm 
that this is the brutal ringleader of the mob that attacked my 
mother’s home, and since I am ready to swear upon my honor 
8 


JOG 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


that it is he, have not I performed my duty by chastising 
him ?” 

“ Yes, Prince of Savoy, if you are sure that it is he,” was the 
unanimous reply. 

“ I can prove that it is he. When, in spite of my warning, 
he uplifted his right arm to urge the rabble to a new attack 
on the palace, I aimed a bullet at his elbow, and it reached its 
mark. Now, if this man be Monsieur Louvois, and not the 
knave I hold him to be, let him raise his right arm, and so 
brand me as a liar.” 

As he heard this challenge, Barbesieur trembled, and his 
face paled to a deadly whiteness. His right hand was buried 
in the breast of his coat, and well he knew that every eye was 
riveted upon that spot. He made one superlative effort to 
straighten his arm, but no sooner had he moved it than he ut- 
tered a stifled cry of pain, and the wounded limb fell helpless 
to his side. 

“ My lords,” said Eugene, inclining his head, “ you see that 
I am no calumniator. This is the churl who maligned my 
mother’s name. ” 

“ And I am Barhesieur Louvois ! ” cried the churl , gnashing 
his teeth with rage. “ I am Barbesieur Louvois, and you shall 
learn it to your sorrow, for my father will avenge the insult 
you have offered to his son.” 

“ Your father ! ” echoed the Prince de Conti. “ But your- 
self ! What will you do to mend your bruised honor ? A 
nobleman knows but one means of repairing that.” 

Barbesieur blushed, and then grew very pale. “ You see 
that I am incapable of resorting to this means,” replied he, in 
much confusion. 

“ Then you will not challenge the Prince de Carignan ? ” 

“ It is not in my power to send a challenge. My right arm 
is useless to me.” 

“Sir,” said De Conti, haughtily, “there are blots on a 
man’s honor, which can only be wiped out with blood ; and 
when the right hand is powerless, a nobleman learns to use 
his left.” 

“ I claim the privilege of waiting until I shall have regained 
the use of my right hand,” returned Barbesieur with a sinister 


A SKIRMISH. 


107 


glance at De Conti. “ I cannot be sure of my aim with an 
unpractised left hand ; and when I meet this miserable mani- 
kin, I wish to kill him. — Eugene of Savoy, you have offered 
me a deadly affront ; and as soon as my -wound is healed, you 
shall hear from me.” 

“ Don’t give yourself the trouble of sending me a challenge,” 
returned Eugene coolly, “for I will not accept it.” 

“ Not accept it ! ” echoed Barbesieur, unable to suppress the 
gleam of satisfaction that would shoot across his countenance. 
“ Your valor then, which is equal to put opprobrium upon a 
defenceless man, will not bear you out to face him in a duel ? 
What say these gentlemen here present, to such behavior on 
the part of a prince of the ducal house of Savoy ? ” 

“ When I shall have spoken a few more words to you, they 
can decide. You have so outraged my mother, the Countess 
de Soissons, that the falsehood with which you have befouled 
her honored name can never be recalled ! Not content with 
forcing her, by your persecutions, into exile, your emissaries 
preceded her to every point whereat she sought shelter, and 
incited the populace to refuse her the merest necessaries of 
life ! For wrongs such as these, nothing could repay me but 
the infliction of a degradation both public and complete. I 
have disgraced you ; the marks of my lash are upon your back, 
and think you that I shall bestow upon you one drop of my 
blood wherewith to heal your stripes ? No ! I fight with no 
man whom I have chastised as I would a serf ; but if you have 
a friend that will represent you, here is my gauntlet : let him 
raise it. — Gentlemen, which of you will be the proxy that shall 
cleanse the sullied honor of Barbesieur Louvois with his 
blood ? ” 

“ Not I,” said the two Princes de Conti, simultaneously. 

“ Nor I,” “ Nor I, “ Nor I ! ” echoed the others. 

“ Nor I,” cried the Duke de la Roche Guyon, stepping for- 
ward so as to be conspicuous and generally heard. “ I am the 
son-in-law of Monsieur Louvois, and unhappily this man is 
the brother of my dear and honored wife. But he is no kins- 
man of mine ; and if I raise this glove, it is to return it to the 
Prince of Savoy, for among us all he has not an enemy. He 
stands in the midst of his friends, and they uphold and will 


108 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


sustain him, let the consequences of this day be what they 
may.” 

With a deep inclination of the head, the duke returned his 
glove to Eugene, who, greatly affected, could scarcely murmur 
his thanks. 

With glaring eyes and scowl of hatred, Barbesieur had 
listened, while his brother-in-law’s repudiation of the tie that 
bound them to one another had deepened and widened the 
gashes of his disgrace. With muttered words of revenge, he 
mounted the horse of one of his grooms, and galloped swiftly 
out of sight of the detested Pre aux Clercs. 

“ Gentlemen,” resumed the Duke de la Roche Guyon, “ I 
am about to seek an audience with Monsieur Louvois, to relate 
to him the events that have just transpired ; and to exact of 
him as a man of honor that he will seek no revenge for the 
affront offered to his son. Which of you, then, will accom- 
pany me as witness ? ” 

“ All, all,” cried the cavaliers, with enthusiasm. “We sus- 
tain the Prince of Savoy, and if Minister Louvois injures a 
hair of his head, he shall be answerable for the deed to every 
nobleman in France.” 

“ And you, dear Eugene, whither are you going ? ” asked De 
Conti, putting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, and contem- 
plating him with looks of affectionate admiration. 

“I?” said Eugene, softly. “I shall return home to the 
hall of my ancestors, there to hang this gauntlet below my 
mother’s portrait. Would that kneeling I could lay it at her 
feet ! ” 

He was about to turn away, when De Conti remarked, “ I 
wonder whether Barbesieur will have the assurance to attend 
the court-ball to-night ? ” 

“We shall see,” replied Eugene, with a smile. 

11 We! Why, you surely will not present yourself before 
the king, until you find out in what way his majesty intends 
to view your attack upon the favorite son of his favorite min- 
ister ? ” 

“ I shall go to the ball to ascertain the sentiments of his 
majesty. You know how I abhor society, and how awkward 
I am in the presence of the beau monde ; but not to attend this 


LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. 


109 

ball would be an act of cowardice. I must overcome my dis- 
inclination to such assemblies, and learn my fate to-night.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. 

“ Are you really in earnest, ma toute belle t ” said Eliza- 
beth-Charlotte of Orleans. “ Are you serious when, you re- 
linquish your golden hours of untrammelled existence, to be- 
come my maid of honor ? ” 

The young girl, who was seated on a tabouret close by, lifted 
her great black eyes, and for a moment contemplated the large, 
good-natured features of the duchess ; then, smiling as if in 
satisfaction at the survey, she replied : 

‘‘ Certainly, if your highness accords me your gracious per- 
mission to attach myself to your person.” 

“ And does your father approve ? Has the powerful minis- 
ter of his majesty no objection to have his daughter enter my 
service ? ” 

“ I told him that if he refused I would take the veil,” re- 
turned the young girl, with quiet decision. 

The duchess leaned forward, and contemplated her with 
interest. “Take the veil!” exclaimed she. “What should 
such a pretty creature do in a convent ? You are not — you 
cannot be in earnest. Let those transform themselves into 
nuns who have sins upon their consciences, or sorrow within 
their hearts : you can have had no greater loss to mourn than 
the flight of a canary, or the death of a greyhound.” 

The maiden’s eyes glistened with tears. “ Your highness, I 
have lost a mother.” 

“ Oh, how unfeeling of me to have forgotten it ! ” exclaimed 
the duchess. “ But, in good sooth, this heartless court-life cor- 
rupts us all ; we are so unaccustomed to genuine feeling, that 
we forget its existence on earth. Dear child, forgive me ; I 
am thoughtless, but not cruel. Give me your hand and let us 
be friends.” 


110 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The girl pressed a fervent kiss upon the hand that was out- 
stretched to meet hers. “ Oh ! ” cried she, feelingly, “ my 
grandmother was right when she told me that you were 
the best and noblest lady that ever graced the court of 
France.” 

“ Did your grandmother say that, love ? ” asked the duchess. 
“ I remember her as one of the most delightful persons I ever 
met. She was a spirited, intelligent, and pure-minded woman ; 
and many are the pleasant hours we have passed together. I 
was really grieved when the Marquise de Bonaletta disappeared 
from court, and went into retirement.” 

“ She left the court for love of my mother, whose marriage 
was a most unhappy one ; and who, although she had much 
strength of mind, had not enough to cope with the malignity 
of the enemies that were of her own household.” 

“ Your father was twice married, was he not ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness ; and, by his first marriage, had a son 
and a daughter. With the latter, the present Duchess de la 
Roche Gruyon, my mother lived in perfect harmony, but her 
step-son, Barbesieur, hated her, and finally caused her to quit 
her husband’s house, and take refuge with her mother, the 
Marchioness de Bonaletta.” 

“ I remember,” returned the duchess. “ Both ladies left 
Paris at the same time; and nothing was ever heard of them 
afterward. They retired to the country, did they not ? ” 

“Yes, your highness. My grandmother had inherited a 
handsome estate from her husband ; and thither they took ref- 
uge from the persecution of Barbesieur — my brother, and yet 
the enemy who, before I had attained my sixth year, had 
driven me to a state of orphanage, by alienating from me my 
father’s affection. Well — I scarcely missed his protection, for 
dear mother’s love filled up the measure of my heart’s cravings 
for sympathy, and her care supplied every requirement of my 
mind. But my happiness was short-lived as a dream; my 
mother’s health had been sorely shattered by her many trials, 
and I was not yet fourteen when it pleased God to take her to 
Himself.” 

The duchess listened with tender sympathy. “ I see, dear 
child,” said she, “ that you are a loving daughter, for two 


LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. 


Ill 


years have gone by since your misfortune, and yet your eyes 
are dim with tears.” 

“ Ah, your highness, time has increased, not lessened, my 
sorrow. The longer the separation, the harder it is to bear, 
and I know not from what source consolation is to flow. For 
a time, however, I had the sympathy of my grandmother to 
soothe my grief. We visited her grave, we spoke of her to- 
gether. For love of her who was so eager for my improve- 
ment, I applied myself heartily to my studies. Hoping, be- 
lieving that she looked down from heaven upon her child, I 
strove to prove my love by cultivating to their utmost the 
powers which God had bestowed upon me.” 

“ And no doubt you have become such a learned little lady, 
that you will be quite formidable to such triflers as we,” said 
the duchess, with a smile. 

“ No, indeed, dear lady. I am slightly proficient in music 
and painting — these are my only accomplishments.” 

“Ah, you love music? How it delights me to know this, 
for I, too, am passionately fond of it ! When I was a maiden 
in Heidelberg, I used to roam about the woods, singing in con- 
cert with the larks and nightingales ; and my deceased father, 
the Elector Palatine, finally declared that I was no German 
princess, but a metamorphosed lark, whom he constantly ex- 
pected to see spread out her wings, and depart for Bird-land. 
Sometimes, when my reveries are mournful, I could almost 
wish myself a lark, hovering over the fields that lie at the foot 
of our dear castle at Heidelberg, or nestling among its towers, 
wherein I have passed so many joyous hours. Now, if I were 
a Hindoo, I would look forward with pleasure to the day of 
my transmigration; for as a lark, I would fly to my dear na- 
tive home, and sing the old air of which my father was so 
fond : 

* The sky that bends over the Neckar is fair, 

And its waters are kissed by the soft summer air ’ — ” 

As the duchess attempted to hum this familiar strain, her 
voice grew faint, and her eyes filled with tears. She dashed 
them hastily away. 

“ My dear child,” said she, after a pause, “ I know not why 


112 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


your sweet companionship should have brought to mind vis- 
ions of home and happiness that are long since buried in the 
grave of the past. I seldom indulge in retrospection, Laura ; 
it unfits me for endurance of the heartless life we lead in 
Paris. But sometimes, when we are alone, you will let me 
live over these sunny hours, and—” 

Again her voice faltered, and she buried her face in her 
hands, while Laura ldoked on with sympathetic tears. 

There was a silence of several moments, at the end of which 
the duchess gave a short sigh, and looked up. Her face was 
quite composed, and, smiling affectionately upon her young 
companion, she resumed their conversation. 

“ And now, dear child, go on with what you were relating 
to me. My little episode of weakness is ended, and I listen to 
your artless narration with genuine pleasure. You lived with 
your grandmother on her estate, and you were tenderly at- 
tached to each other ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, I loved my grandmother to adoration. My 
lonely heart had concentrated all its love upon her who loved 
me not only for my own, but for my mother’s sake; and we 
were beginning to find happiness in our mutual affection, when 
death again snatched from me my last stay, my only friend. 
My dear grandmother would have gone joyfully, but for the 
sake of the poor child she was leaving behind. When she 
felt her end approaching, she sent for my father, who obeyed 
the summons at once. He arrived in time to receive her last 
injunctions. They had a long private interview, at the end of 
which I was called in, and formally delivered over to the 
guardianship of my father, who promised me his love an;' pro-, 
tection. But my grandmother added these words, which 1 
have carefully treasured in my memory : 

“ 4 If you should ever need advice or countenance from a 
woman, go to the Duchess of Orleans. She is a virtuous and 
benevolent princess, and will befriend you. With her for a 
protectress, you will be as safe from harm as in the sheltering 
arms of your own mother.’ ” 

The duchess extended her hand. “I thank your grand- 
mother, dear child, for her confidence in my benevolence: if I 
have never deserved it before, I will earn it now ; and be as- 


LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. 


113 


sured that in me you will find a loving protectress. But why 
should you need any influence of mine ? Your father is the 
most powerful subject at court, and the whole world will be at 
your feet. Young, handsome, and rich, every nobleman in 
France will be your suitor.” 

“ But I can never marry without love,” replied Laura, en- 
thusiastically. “ Love alone could reconcile me to the exigen- 
cies of married life, and I must choose the man that is to rule 
over my destiny. Let me be frank, and confess to your high- 
ness why I desire to place myself under your protection. My 
father is trying to force me into a marriage with the Marquis 
de Strozzi, the Venetian envoy. He is young, handsome, rich, 
and may perhaps become Doge of Venice. He is all this — but 
what are his recommendations to me? I do not love him! 
More than that, he is the friend of Barbesieur, and therefore I 
dislike him. The match, too, is of Barbesieur’s making : he it 
was that influenced my father to consent to it. I have already 
declared that, sooner than marry the marquis, I will take the 
veil. But my vocation is not for the cloister, and therefore I 
implore your highness’s protection. I beseech you, give me 
the place made vacant by the marriage of your maid of honor, 
and save me from a life of misery. In my father’s house I am 
solitary and unloved: but even loneliness of heart I could en- 
dure, if I were permitted to endure if in peace ! But a com- 
pulsory marriage is worse to me than death ! Save me, dear 
lady, and I will be the humblest and most obedient of your 
subjects ! ” 

The duchess smilingly shook her head. “ I am afraid,” 
said she, “ that the daughter of Louvois will not be permitted 
to accept the office you ask, my child. Do you know that my 
maids of honor are paid for their services ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness ; but I crave permission to serve you 
without salary. I am rich, and, as regards fortune, independ- 
ent of my father. On condition that I assume her name, my 
grandmother left me the whole of her vast estates. I have 
wealth, then, more than enough to gratify my wildest caprices; 
— but no mother— no friend. Oh, take pity on me, and be- 
friend a poor orphan ! ” 

“ A poor orphan ! ” laughed the duchess. “ A rich heiress. 


114 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


you mean — a marchioness of fifteen years, who is possessed 
of sufficient character to dispute the mandates of the powerful 
minister of the King of France ! But your resolute bearing 
pleases me. You are not the puppet of circumstances, nor is 
your heart hardened by ambition. It follows whither youth- 
ful enthusiasm beckons, and scorns the rein of worldly re- 
straint. I like your spirit, Laura, and I love you. You may 
count upon me, therefore, as far as it lies in my power to serve 
you. But understand that I am not a favorite at court. The 
king honors me occasionally with his notice ; but the two 
great magnates, the ‘ powers that be,' De Montespan, and her 
rival De Maintenon, both dislike me. They have reason to do 
so, for I do not love them. I am at heart an honest German 
woman, and have no taste for gilded corruption. I honor and 
love my brother-in-law, whom God preserve and bless ! But 
if the Lord would take these two marchionesses to Himself, or 
send them below, to regions more congenial to their tastes 
than heaven, I assure you that I would not die of grief at 
their loss. De Montespan is merely a dissolute woman, who 
abandoned her husband and children to become the mistress 
of a king. But that De Maintenon ! Her hypocrisy is enough 
to turn one’s stomach. She not only supplants her benefac- 
tress in the affections of her lover, but dresses up her sins in 
the garments of a virtue, and affects piety! She teaches his 
majesty to sin and pray, and pray and sin, hoping to com- 
pound with Heaven for adultery, by sanctimony ; perchance 
expecting, as brokerage for her king’s regenerated soul, an 
earthly reward in the -shape of a mantle edged with ermine ! 
When I think of that Iscariot in petticoats, I am ready to 
burst with indignation ! ” 

The duchess grew so excited that she had to wipe her face 
with her embroidered handkerchief. After cooling herself for 
a few moments, she resumed : 

“Yes ! and to think that the princes of the blood and the 
queen herself, are obsequious to these two lemans of a king ! 
May I freeze in the cold blast of royal disfavor, before I de- 
grade my rank and womanhood by such servility! And 
mark this well, little marchioness, if you take service with me. 
Who goes to court with me, pays no homage to the mistresses 


LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. H5 

of the king. — But why do you kneel, my child ? What means 
this humility ? ” 

“ How otherwise could I give expression to my reverence, 
my admiration, my love ? ” exclaimed Laura, her countenance 
beaming with beautiful enthusiasm. “And how otherwise 
could I thank my God that so noble, so brave, so incompa- 
rable a woman is my protectress ! Let me kiss this honored 
hand that has never been contaminated by the touch of cor- 
ruption ! ” 

“You are a sweet enthusiast,” said Elizabeth-Charlotte, 
bending down and kissing Laura’s brow. “ In your eye there 
beams a light that reveals to me ja, kindred spirit. Beautiful, 
young, hopeful though you be (and I am none of these), there 
is a congeniality of soul between us that leaps over all dis- 
parity, and proclaims us to be friends. Come, dear child, to 
my heart.” 

With a cry of joy, Laura threw herself into the arms of the 
duchess, who held her fast, and kissed her o’er and o’er. 

“ Sweet child,” exclaimed she, “ your spontaneous love is 
like a flower springing from the hideous gaps of a grave. I 
greet it as a gift of God, and it shall reanimate within me hap- 
piness and hope. You are but fifteen, Laura, and I am a ma- 
ture woman of thirty; but my heart is as strong to love as 
yours; for many years it has pined under clouds of neglect, 
but the sun of your sympathy has shone upon it, and, warmed 
by its kindly beams, it will revive and bloom.” 

“ And oh how I shall love you in return ! ” cried the happy 
girl. “As a mother whom I trust and revere — as a sister to 
whom I may confide my girlish secrets — as a guardian angel 
whose blessing I shall implore. But in the world, and when 
I bear your train, I will forget that I am aught but the low- 
liest handmaiden of her royal highness, Elizabeth-Charlotte, 
Duchess of Orleans.” 

“ And when we are alone and without witnesses, we will 
speak of those we have loved ; and I, alas ! of some whom I 
have not loved ; for, Laura, my marriage was a compulsory 
one. The altar on which I pledged my faith was one of sac- 
rifice ; and I, the bride, the lamb that was immolated for my 
country’s good. Ah ! many tears ha^e I shed since I was Duch- 


116 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ess of Orleans ; but your tender band shall wipe them away, 
and in your sweet society I shall grow joyous again. We will 
sing the ditties of my fatherland ; and, provided no one is 
within hearing, I will teach you our German dances, w T hich, 
because of the corruption that dwells within their hearts, 
these French people stigmatize as voluptuous. With such a 
birdling as you to carol around me, the lark that once dwelt 
in my heart, will find its voice again, and awake to sing a 
hymn of thankfulness to God, who has enriched me with the 
blessing of your love.” 

“ And I, dear lady, will try to deserve the happiness He has 
vouchsafed to me, by loving all His creatures — even Barbe- 
sieur himself.” 

“ Ah ! Barbesieur ! ” echoed the duchess, thoughtfully. “ I 
doubt whether he or your father will consent to give you to 
me, Laura. Nobody knows better than Monsieur Louvois, 
how unimportant a personage at court is the Duchess of Or- 
leans.” 

“ He must give me to you or to the cloister,” exclaimed 
Laura, quickly. “ And not only relinquish me, which would 
be no great loss, but my worldly goods, which are an impor- 
tant item in his estimation. I am absolute mistress of my for- 
tune, and nobody but the Chevalier Lankey has a word to say 
in the matter. As for him — dear old fellow! he is the tender- 
est guardian that ever pretended to have authority over an 
heiress ; and he loves me so sincerely, that if I were to come 
and say that, to save me from misfortune, he must stab me to 
the heart, he would do my bidding, and forthwith die of grief 
for the act. ” 

“ I can almost believe you, absurd child ; for you are an en- 
chantress, and therefore irresistible.” 

“Yes — I am irresistible,” replied Laura, throwing her arms 
'"around the duchess’s neck, “and I vow and declare that it is 
my good pleasure to live forever in the sunshine of your high- 
ness's presence ; so I consider myself as accepted and in- 
stalled.” 

“ With all my heart, if your family be propitious ! And 
with a view to reconciling them, I must create an office for you 
of more dignity than that of a mere maid of honor. You 


LOUVOIS’ DAUGHTER. 


117 


shall be lady of the bedchamber ; and I will announce your 
appointment with all due formality to the king, the court, and 
my own household. You retain the title of maid of honor, 
because that gives you the right to remain constantly attached 
to my person ; but, except on days of extraordinary ceremony, 
you shall be dispensed with the duty of following me as train- 
bearer. ” 

“ I shall be dispensed with no such thing ! ” cried Laura, 
playfully ; “ I do not intend to delegate my duties to anybody ; 
above all, a duty which to me will be a privilege.” 

“We shall see, you self-willed girl,” was the reply, “for I 
shall forbid you in presence of my household, and, for deco- 
rum’s sake, you will be forced to obey. Neither shall you in- 
habit the third story of the main palace, in common with the 
other maids of honor ; you shall occupy the pretty pavilion 
in the garden, and have an independent household as befits 
your rank and fortune. Now, as regards your table. You 
know that, by the laws of French etiquette, nobody is permit- 
ted to sit at table with the princes or princesses of the blood ; 
and my lord, the duke, is so stringent in his observance of 
these laws, that he would faint were he to witness a breach of 
them. When his royal highness, then, dines with me, you 
'will be served in the pavilion, and are at liberty to invite 
whom you please to share your repasts ; but happily, I am 
honored with his presence but twice a week ; and on all other 
days, we shall breakfast and dine together. The duke spends 
two days out hunting, and the other three with his mistress, 
Madame de Rulhieres. You look surprised to hear me men- 
tion this so coolly. Time was, when I felt humiliated to know 
that mine were not the only children who kissed my husband, 
and called him father. The caresses he bestowed upon his 
mistress, I never grudged. She robbed me of nothing when 
she accepted them. As the wife of a man whom I did not 
love, I could aspire to none of the joys of wedded life ; I have 
contented myself with fulfilling its duties, and so conducting 
myself that I need never be ashamed to look my dear children 
in the face. But enough of this : let us return to you. You 
will keep your own carriage, use your own liveries, and be 
sole mistress of your house and home, into which the Duchess 


118 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of Orleans shall not enter unannounced. You will find it 
larger than it looks to be. It contains a parlor, sitting and 
dining rooms, a library opening on the garden ; a bed-room, 
three chambers for servants, and two anterooms, large enough 
to accommodate your worshippers while they await admission 
to your presence. This is all I have to offer my lady of the 
bedchamber. May I hope that it is agreeable ? ” 

“ Agreeable ! ” exclaimed Laura, affectionately. “ It will 
place me on a pinnacle of happiness. And now that I have 
heard of all the favors, the privileges, and the honors that are 
to accrue to me from my residence in the pavilion, will my 
gracious mistress deign to instruct me as to the duties I am to 
perform, in return for her bounty ? ” 

“ Wilful creature, have I not already told you ? On occa- 
sions of state you are to be one of my trainbearers ; and when 
his majesty comes to visit me, you station yourself at my side. 
Then you are to drive out with me daily, and as you alone 
will be with me in the carriage, we can have many a pleasant 
chat, while the maids of honor come behind. And we must 
be discreet, or they may inform monsieur of the preference 
which madame has for her lady of the bedchamber ; and then, 
Heaven knows what the duke might do to us ! Let us hope 
that he would not poison you, as he did my poor little Italian 
greyhound, a few weeks ago. He hated the dog because I 
loved it, and because it was a present to me from my dear 
brother Carl. So be wary and prudent, Laura : these maids 
of honor have sharp ears, and it is not safe to talk when they 
are waiting in the anteroom, for some are in the pay of De 
Maintenon, and you will not have been here many days before 
one of them is sold to your father. I can scarcely believe in 
the reality of my new acquisition, for much as I regret to tell 
you so, Laura, you cannot enter my service until Monsieur 
Louvois comes hither to make the request himself. Otherwise, 
monsieur and Madame de Maintenon would spread it about, 
that I had forcibly abducted the Marchioness de Bonaletta, and 
torn her from her loving father’s arms.” 

“ My father will be here to-day to comply with all the 
formalities that must precede my installation,” replied 
Laura. “And, if your highness will admit him, I shall 


THE COURT-BALL. 


110 


have the happiness of being in your train at the court- ball to- 
night.” 

“ Of course I must admit him, since you will it, my queen 
of hearts. By what magic is it that you have won my love so 
completely to-day, Laura ? ” 

“ By the magic touch of my own heart that loves you so 
well, dear lady — so well, that I ask no other boon of Heaven 
but that of deserving and returning your affection.” 

“ Until some lover comes between us, and robs me of my 
treasure,” said the duchess, with a smile. “ Have you seen the 
brigand yet ? Do you know him ? ” 

Laura laughed. “ He is a myth — I have no faith in his ex- 
istence,” said she. 

“He exists, nevertheless, my child, and will make his ap- 
pearance before long ; for you are destined to have many 
suitors.” 

“ But none that approaches my ideal of manhood. Where 
shall I find this hero of my dreams ? — not at the court of 
France, your highness. But— should he ever come out of the 
clouds, brave, noble, wise, as I have pictured him, then, oh 
then ! I should follow the destiny of woman ; leaving all 
other beings, even my gracious mistress herself, to cleave unto 
him, and merge my soul in his ! Were I to love, the world 
itself would recede from view, leaving all space filled with 
the image of the man I loved ! Better he should never come 
down from the moon — for, if he comes, I am lost ! ” 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE COURT-BALL. 

The magnificent halls of the Louvre were open to receive 
the guests of his majesty Louis XIV. Balls were “ few and 
far between ” at the French court, and the festivities of the 
evening were significant, as betokening triumph to De Monte- 
span and mortification to De Maintenon. 

For Louis, like Mohammed’s coffin, was suspended between 


120 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the heaven of De Maintenon’s pious attractions, and the earth 
of De Montespan’s carnal fascinations. Neither the exhorta- 
tions of Pere la Chaise, nor the affectionate zeal of De Main- 
tenon, had as yet overthrown the power of De Montespan ; and 
more than once, when wearied w T ith the solemn dulness of the 
former, had he sought refuge from drowsiness in the rollick- 
ing companionship of the latter, who, if she was a sinner, wore 
the livery of her master, and sinned honestly and above-hoard. 
De Montespan always profited by these little intervals of ten- 
derness, to obtain some signal favor from Louis, which had 
the effect of perplexing the court, and rendering it a doubtful 
matter to those who would fain have gone over to the vic- 
torious party, which of his two mistresses was truly sovereign 
of the king’s unstable affections. 

Such a concession was this ball, wrung from Louis, first by 
coaxing, and finally by pouting and tears. De Montespan was 
elated, for it was a double triumph ; it was given at her re- 
quest, and was to take place on her birthday. 

And De Maintenon, of course, was proportionally crest- 
fallen. But, after shedding just as many tears as she deemed 
appropriate, Scarron’s widow was clever enough to understand 
that wisdom lay in acquiescence. She wiped her eyes, and 
suffered herself to be caressed into a good-humor ; was more 
amiable, more sprightly, more fascinating than ever, with not 
a trace of disappointment in her looks, save that which Jay in 
the unusual paleness of her face. 

Louis was so touched by her magnanimity, that he abso- 
lutely begged her pardon ; and she was so overcome by the 
condescension of his majesty, that she asked permission to be 
present at the ball. 

“ He was only too happy ! ” that is to say, he did his best 
to conceal his consternation at the unheard-of proposition. 
Sainte Maintenon at a ball! What would she do in so un- 
righteous a place ? And worse — still worse : what would his 
other charmer say when she heard of it ? What outbreak of 
indignation might not be expected, when De Montespan was 
told that her ex -governess was to be present at a ball given in 
her own honor ? Between his saint and Jiis sinner, Louis was 
sorely perplexed. But he might have spared himself all un- 


THE COURT-BALL. 


121 


easiness. De Montespan was not in the least ruffled at the 
tidings ; she rather enjoyed the idea of setting off her own 
splendor against the shabbiness of her rival. 

But the court was in a state of anxious excitement on the 
subject. Everybody was dying of curiosity to see the meeting 
of the rivals, and the effect that was to be produced by their 
presence on the poor deserted queen. 

To which of the favorites will the king throw his handker- 
chief ? With which of the two will he converse most ? Will 
he feel at ease as he treads the minuet under the eyes of the 
devotee ? Or will he venture to recognize her in presence of 
the courtesan ? 

Such were the questions that were continually asked, but 
never answered by the elegant crowd which thronged the halls 
of the palace that evening. The rencontre of Eugene and 
Barbesieur was for the moment forgotten. It was not likely 
that either one of the disputants would venture to appear at 
court, until the king had decided to which party belonged the 
blame of the affray ; but, as regarded the brush that was im- 
minent between the king’s mistresses, that was a matter which 
concerned everybody, and everybody was in a flutter to know 
the result. 

The lord chamberlain having announced that the court 
was about to make its entrance, the throng pressed forward to 
the Gallery of Apollo. Four immense chandeliers lit up the 
gorgeous frescoes on the ceiling, and poured a flood of radi- 
ance upon the line of stately courtiers and elegant women wdio 
were the guests of the king’s leman that night. The ladies 
coquetted with their large fans, whispered with the cavaliers 
close by, and dispensed smiles and bewitching glances upon 
those who were too far for speech until the master of ceremo- 
nies flung open the doors, and announced “ his majesty the 
king.” 

There was at once profound silence ; and in a moment 
every head was bent, and every eye sought the floor. The 
men bowed low, the women courtesied lower, and nothing was 
to be seen but a chaos of jewels, velvet, brocade, and llama, sur- 
mounted by feathered, flowered, or ringleted heads, and long, 
flowing wigs. 

9 


122 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The one personage who had the right to hold himself erect 
in the presence of this reverential multitude— the king — ap- 
peared, followed by a glittering train of marshals, chamber- 
lains, officers of the royal household, and pages. His majesty 
traversed the gallery and approached the throne, which, for 
this festive occasion, was hung with white velvet, studded 
with golden lilies. Not far from the royal arm-chair stood a 
lady, whose sad eyes looked wearily upon the pageant, and 
whose pallid lips had long since forgotten how to smile. It 
was Maria Theresa, the queen. She had made her entry be- 
fore the king, but it had scarcely been remarked. She was a 
deserted wife, and, being without influence at court, had no 
favors to bestow. She was, therefore, altogether sans conse- 
quence. 

Nevertheless, she was the queen-consort, and Louis, extend- 
ing his hand, and inclining his royal head, assisted her to 
mount the throne. As soon as the kingly pair were seated, his 
majesty’s voice was heard — 

•“ My guests are welcome.” 

As if by enchantment, feathers, flowers, curls, and wigs, all 
rose up out of chaos, and every eye w T as turned upon the 
handsome person of the sovereign. 

While all this had been going on Eugene of Savoy stood 
erect, nor once cast down his flashing eyes before the light- 
ning of the royal presence. He had entered quietly, had re- 
tired to the recess of a window, and, as the crowd had simul- 
taneously become a heap of garments, he had curled his lip in 
contempt. Suddenly his eye grew soft, and his mouth relaxed 
into a smile. Not far from the throne he had seen one head — 
one beautiful head, and had met the glance of a pair of glorious 
eyes, which were quietly surveying the scene, and, as Eugene 
thought, enjoying it with an expression of suppressed amuse- 
ment. 

Who could she be, that, while every other person there had 
lost his individuality and merged it into one monstrous con- 
cretion of obsequiousness, had preserved her balance, and 
stood undazzled by the rays of the sun of France ? As young 
as she was lovely, whence came the mingled self-possession 
and unconsciousness which made her an observer instead of a 


THE COURT-BALL. 


123 


worshipper ? Eugene had never seen this beautiful creature 
before ; but from the depths of her starry eyes there streamed 
a light that went straight to his heart, making strange reve- 
lation of some half-forgotten bliss which, in an anterior state 
of being, might once have been his own. 

But how came she hither ? What had her fair, unclouded 
brow, her innocent face, her maidenly bearing in common 
with the vain, voluptuous, and corrupt women around, who 
were so lost to shame as not only to do homage to the king’s 
mistresses, but to envy them the infamous distinction of his 
preference ? 

Their eyes met ; and in her glance of astonishment Eugene 
fancied that he saw mirrored his own surprise at her extraor- 
dinary defiance of courtly servility. She too seemed to ask, 
“ How is it that you stand so proudly erect, when every other 
head is bent in reverence before our sovereign ? Who are you, 
that presume to — ” 

But the king and his suite passed between them, and the 
beautiful face was lost to sight. In its place, Eugene beheld 
the haughty monarch who had caused such bitter tears to flow 
from the eyes of his dear, exiled mother ; and the thought of 
that beloved mother led to remembrance of his father’s death, 
and to the tyranny which would make of his father’s son an 
unwilling priest. 

Meanwhile the king had seated himself on the throne, and 
the princes and princesses of the blood had approached to pay 
their homage. Not a sound was heard in that splendid gal- 
lery, save the subdued tones of Louis, who was conversing 
with the Duke of Orleans ; for, until the former rose to make 
his grande tournee , etiquette required of his adoring subjects 
to be dumb. 

A slight hum, however, began to be heard at the lower end 
of the hall, and all eyes were turned toward the door which 
opened to admit the woman whom the king delighted to 
honor. 

Her tall figure was set off to great advantage by a dress of 
purple velvet, embroidered wuth silver. From her voluptuous 
shoulders drooped a mantle, edged with richest ermine ; and 
her swelling bust was scarcely concealed by a drapery of sil- 


124 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


vered gauze. On her bosom she wore a fleur de lis composed 
of emeralds, pearls, and diamonds, and on her magnificent 
brow glittered a diadem of brilliants worthy the acceptance of 
an empress. 

So haughty was her bearing, and so obsequious were the 
salutations which greeted her entrance, that but for the pale 
statue that occupied a seat next the king, Madame de Mon- 
tespan might have been mistaken for the queen. 

Eugene’s eyes had sought and found the young girl, whose 
sweet vision had been displaced by the king, but who now, in 
full view of the company, stood immediately behind the chair 
of the Duchess of Orleans. Would she bow her incomparable 
head before that exalted harlot ? Would she outrage her 
maidenhood by acknowledgment of De Montespan’s title to 
consideration ? No ! Thank God, she was true to her pure, 
womanly instincts. Her face crimsoned, her delicate brows 
were slightly drawn together, and her head was unconsciously 
raised, as if in protest against the public scandal of this wom- 
an’s intrusion. 

When Eugene saw this, his heart leaped with joy, and he 
yearned to throw himself at her feet. 

“In Heaven’s name who can she be, that fairy-queen, who 
fears not mortal man ? ” thought he. “ Who — ” 

But suddenly his eye shot fire, and the expression of his 
face was transformed. He had met the glance of Barbesieur 
Louvois, who, under shelter of De Montespan’s favor with 
Louis, and the protection of his father, had intruded himself 
into the company of the proudest nobles in France. How was 
it possible that the master of ceremonies had allowed to a dis- 
graced man the privilege of appearing .before the king and 
queen ? 

“ Gracious Heaven ! ” thought Eugene, “ are honor and 
shame but empty words? Is this, indeed, the Marchioness de 
Montespan, whose entrance is greeted like that of a sovereign, 
while the Countess de Soissons wanders in foreign lands, a 
fugitive from justice ? Justice ? — No ! A fugitive from oppres- 
sion, and the kinsman who should have protected her — her 
oppressor! And is yonder swaggering cavalier the caitiff 
whose back is smarting with the lash of my hunting-whip ? 


THE COURT-BALL. 


125 


And those smiling courtiers there, who take him by the hand 
— are they the noblemen that upheld me in the act? By 
Heaven, they greet him as though, like me, his veins were blue 
with the blood of kings ! But no !— not all ! The Princes of 
Conti have refused to recognize him : they bow to the minister 
of war, but pass without a word to his son. For that act I 
shall hold them ‘ in my heart of hearts,’ nor forget their man- 
liness while I live to honor worth and scorn servility ! ” 

Eugene looked affectionately at his cousins, until his eyes 
filled with tears of gratitude ; but they were unconscious of 
the comfort they had ministered to his wounded heart, for 
they were not aware of his presence in the ballroom. 

The king had not yet ended his long conversation with the 
Duke of Orleans. The company stood still and expectant, and 
the Marchioness de Montespan began to exhibit signs of im- 
patience. She had hoped that the ceremonial of compliments 
to and from the royal family would have been over before her 
entrance ; and now that she had been there fully ten minutes, 
the king seemed as unconscious of her presence as ever. 

But — thank Heaven ! the colloquy was at an end ; the king 
has risen, and has signified to the queen that the princesses of 
the blood may rise also. He descends from his throne, and 
De Montespan’s heart is wild with joy. The moment of her 
triumph approaches; Louis is about to lead her out for the 
minuet, and so proclaim her queen of the festival. She smiles 
ineffably ; in her eagerness, she almost rises from her tabouret 
to meet him, but — what can he intend to do ? Has he not seen 
her ?— He turns away, and — now he extends his hand to an- 
other ! 

De Montespan was perfectly overwhelmed, and, all eti- 
quette forgetting, she actually rose from her seat and took a 
step forward, that she might see who was the person that had 
been so singularly honored by the king. 

Who was it ? Why, nobody but Sainte Maintenon, who, 
without pomp or parade, had entered the room, and had taken 
her tabouret with as much simplicity as she would have seated 
herself in church. 

Her toilet, as well as her demeanor, presented a singular 
contrast with that of her sparkling rival. Her dress was of 


126 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


dark velvet, buttoned up to the throat. Her wealth of beauti- 
ful black hair was fastened up with a barbe of gossamer lace, 
and the only ornament she wore around her neck was a deli- 
cate gold chain, to which was attached a miniature of Louis set 
in superb brilliants. 

And upon this wearisome, insipid, old-fashioned puppet, 
the King of France had bestowed his attentions. De Monte- 
span would have given her diadem to have been permitted to 
vent her humiliation in tears ; but pride restrained her, while 
she looked on, and saw how the king led De Maintenon to the 
queen, an honor hitherto reserved for princesses of the blood. 
And with what feline humility she knelt and pressed her ma- 
jesty’s hands to her unholy lips ! Oh ! De Montespan could 
have taken her life when she saw this! 

And she — she for whom this gay assemblage were called 
together, sat unnoticed and alone ; her expected triumph, defeat 
— every hope she had cherished of love reciprocated, and ambi- 
tion gratified, transformed into despair, by one little act. The 
king had given his hand to her rival ! 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 

The conversation between the king, the queen, and Ma- 
dame de Maintenon, was long and interesting. When she 
saw the former rise and incline his head, De Montespan’s 
heart fluttered with expectation ; but his majesty stopped be- 
fore the Duchess of Orleans, and there he lingered so long 
that everybody wondered what could be the attraction there. 
Presently Elizabeth-Charlotte turned to the young girl who 
stood beside her, and presented her to the king. How beauti- 
ful she was ! How enchanting her smile, how charming her 
blushes ! 

She was evidently a stranger, and De Montespan set her 
down as an enemy, for she had not complied with the customs 
of the court, by which every lady introduced there was ex- 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


m 


pected to leave a card for the mistress of the king. An enemy, 
then, she must be — perchance, a rival ! But who was she ? 

“ Yes, who is she ? ” thought Prince Eugene, as, transfixed 
with admiration, he gazed upon her lovely face. “ I must 
know,” exclaimed he aloud, while he pressed forward to make 
the inquiry. 

There was no one near to whom he could address himself, 
for he now for the first time remarked that he stood quite 
alone. He began to be aware that his friends were shy and 
kept aloof ; but Eugene had come to this ball to prove that the 
son of the Countess de Soissons was not to be browbeaten by 
king or courtier ; and he went on and on until he stood so near 
to Louis that he could look him full in the eye. 

The grand monarque knit his brows, and presumed that 
the Prince of Savoy would understand the hint, and with- 
draw ; but Eugene paid no attention to the Olympic frown, or 
affected not to see it. 

Louis, who had been chatting with the little Duke of 
Maine, strode angrily forward and addressed the prince : 

“ I judge from your eyes, little abbe, that you have come 
hither to ask some favor of us to-night ? ” 

“Then my eyes belie my purpose, your majesty,” replied 
Eugene, quietly. “ I have no favor to ask of any one.” 

“ I understand,” said the king, slightly raising his shoul- 
ders. “ You have come for an answer to your last petition ? ” 

“ Pardon me, sire, I have presented no petition whatever to 
your majesty.” 

“ If you have not, your mother, the Countess de Soissons, 
has presented one for you. She begged me, not long ago, to 
appoint you prebendary of a cathedral : as she has thought 
proper to abscond from my dominions, I have had no oppor- 
tunity of answering her request. When you write to her, 
you can tell her that it is refused. Prince Eugene of Savoy 
leads too worldly a life to deserve promotion in the church. 
Bullies are not apt to distinguish themselves as ecclesiastics.” 

“ Sire, I thank your majesty ; for the sentiments to which 
you have just given utterance release me from further obliga- 
tion to enter upon a career for which I have neither inclina- 
tion nor calling.” 


128 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


To these bold words Louis vouchsafed no answer. He an- 
nihilated the offender with a glance, and passed on. Then 
turning to the Duke of Orleans, he said in a voice that was in- 
tended to be generally heard, “ I cannot imagine what that 
little abbe of Savoy wants here to-night. His face brings me 
bad luck.”* 

This was enough to damn Eugene forever at the French 
court. It was the anathema maranatha of his sovereign, 
and cast him out from association with all loyal subjects. 
Nobody in those vast halls would have been seen in his vicin- 
ity ; his best friends would not now have ventured one look 
of sympathy or kindness toward a nobleman so publicly and 
pointedly insulted by royalty. He was henceforth a proscribed 
man. 

The Princes de Conti were sorely grieved, but they dared, 
no more than their compeers, risk the displeasure of the king 
by upholding their outraged kinsman. The eldest one, how- 
ever, managed to whisper a word or two in passing. 

“ Dear Eugene,” said he, “ do be reasonable, and put an end 
to this abominable scene by going home. Our hearts are all 
with you, but we dare not affront the king by the smallest 
demonstration on your behalf; he is looking out for it, and 
would revenge himself effectually. We went this morning 
with De la Roche Guyon to Louvois, and obtained his sacred 
promise to ignore your difficulty with his son, and allow it to 
be settled between yourselves. But he has evidently not kept 
his word; for the affair has been misrepresented to the king, 
and the insult you have received is a proof of it. Go away 
for a few weeks until it blows over, and all will have been for- 
gotten.” 

“ I have no desire to have my affairs forgotten ; I trust that 
they may be remembered,” replied Eugene. “ But hark ! the 
music. — We are to have the ineffable privilege of seeing the 
king dance. Doubtless you have already secured a partner, 
and I will not detain you.” 

The music was heard, and his majesty went through the 
usual form of requesting the queen to open the ball. She an- 
swered, as she was expected to do, that her health was too 
* The king’s own words. — See “ Memoirs of the Duke de St. Simon,” vol. x. 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


129 


feeble for her to enjoy dancing, and she hoped his majesty 
would excuse her, and find another partner. 

This was always a time of suspense and excitement at court- 
balls ; for the lady who was then selected by the king was, de 
facto , the queen of the festival. The minuet’s enticing meas- 
ure was calling upon its votaries to commence; but, until the 
king had made his choice, no one could stir. 

Madame de Montespan’s heart began to throb anew with 
hope. This time she was sure of being chosen, for De Mainte- 
non did not dance ; and, after all, what signified a few words 
with the queen, compared with the glory of being led out to 
the dance by the king ? 

Her eyes sparkled with animation, her mouth began to 
ripple with happy smiles, and oh ! triumph and joy ! the king 
was seen coming in that direction. 

But again he stopped to speak with the Duchess of Orleans. 
What could he want of her ? If De Montespan had been 
within hearing, she need not have wondered, for Louis merely 
requested the pleasure of her hand for the dance. 

Elizabeth-Charlotte looked up in astonishment. 

“ I hope I have not fallen into disfavor,” said Louis, an- 
swering the look. “ You are not about to refuse me ? ” 

“ Oh, sire,” replied his sister-in-law, laughing, “ I am merely 
overcome with your condescension. But your majesty knows,” 
continued she, seriously, “ that since my father’s death I have 
never danced. I was enjoying myself in this very hall while 
he was expiring at home ; and from that unhappy day I have 
never desired to dance again. Moreover, I am a miserable 
partner, and you would be ashamed of me.” 

“ How ashamed ? ” asked Louis, amused at his sister-in-law’s 
artlessness. 

“ I mean, sire, that strive as I will, I am always behind- 
hand in a dance. I am like the snail, who, being invited to a 
wedding, arrived there a year after, and found herself the first 
guest that had come to the christening. As she entered the 
garden she fell into a ha-ha, whereupon she said, ‘More haste, 
worse speed.’ ” 

Louis laughed heartily. “ Then I am refused, dear sister,” 
said he, “ and I must acquiesce in your decision. But I must 


130 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


have satisfaction for the affront. You must find a substi- 
tute.” 

“A substitute!” exclaimed the duchess, reddening with 
anger, as she fancied she saw the king’s eyes wander to the 
tabouret whereon De Montespan still w r aited and smiled. 
“ Surely, your majesty would not ask of me — ” 

“ Why not ?” cried Louis, enjoying her perplexity. “ Why 
may I not ask you to procure me a substitute of your own 
selection ? It is not much for you to do — is it ? ” 

As he spoke, the eyes of the king rested unequivocally upon 
an object which he perceived just behind the chair of the 
duchess. She understood, and hastened to repair her blunder. 

“ Sire,” said she “ may I ask of your majesty a favor ? My 
new lady of the bedchamber has just arrived in Paris, where 
she is a perfect stranger. “ Will you be so gracious as to give 
her this proof of your royal favor ? She is not only my favor- 
ite attendant, but the daughter of your majesty’s minister of 
war, and — ” 

“ And she is, above all things, herself — the beautiful Mar- 
chioness de Bonaletta,” interrupted the king, with somewhat 
of his youthful courtliness and grace. “ You propose her as 
your substitute, do you not ? ” 

“ Yes, sire — if your majesty is so good.” 

“ So good ! I shall esteem myself most happy in the acqui- 
sition of so charming a partner. Does the Marchioness de 
Bonaletta consent ? ” 

With these words, Louis offered his hand ; and Laura, 
without embarrassment or presumption, accepted the honor 
conferred upon her, and was led out to the dance. A murmur 
of admiration followed her appearance, but she seemed quite 
unconscious of the impression she had made. Her lovely 
countenance was neither lit up by pride, nor suffused by bash- 
fulness. Her cheeks were slightly flushed by natural mod- 
esty, and her sweet, unaffected bearing enhanced her incom- 
parable beauty of person. 

Even De Montespan herself could not withhold her tribute 
of admiration. At first she had darted glances of hatred 
toward an imaginary rival ; but a calm survey of Laura’s pure 
and angelic expression of face reassured her. This girl had 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


131 


no mind to entrap the king, and if Louis had not courage 
enough to dance with her (De Montespan), in presence of that 
canting hypocrite De Maintenon, perhaps it was quite as well 
that he had provided himself with a partner sans coquetterie , 
and therefore sans consequence. 

Madame de Maintenon, too, had remarked Laura, as, grace- 
fully emerging from her concealment behind the seat of the 
duchess, she had unostentatiously accepted the king’s invita- 
tion to dance. 

“What a union of tact with tenderness of heart is appar- 
ent in all that his majesty does,” said she to the Duke de 
Maine, who was standing beside her. “ This young girl is the 
personification of innocence and purity, and his majesty’s se- 
lection of her as his partner proves that he not only desires to 
pay homage to youth and beauty, but also to virtue and mod- 
esty.” 

“ How beautiful she is ! ” murmured a young cavalier, who, 
with Barbesieur Louvois, was watching the dancers. 

“Why do you sigh?” replied Barbesieur. “You ought 
rather to be proud of your future bride.” 

“My future bride !” echoed he, dolefully. “I would she 
were, my dear friend. But although your father has so gra- 
ciously given his consent, I am as far from obtaining her as 
ever.” 

“It you wait for that,” whispered Barbesieur in return, 
“you may wait until the day of judgment. My sister is one 
of those incomprehensible beings that loves opposition for op- 
position’s sake. If she is disdainful, it is precisely because she 
is quite as much enamored of you as you are of her. She is 
a sort of chaste Artemis who is ashamed of her preference for 
a man, and would die rather than confess it.” 

“ She enchants me at one moment, and drives me to despair 
the next,” sighed the marquis. 

“ No need for despair,” was the reply. “ My dear marquis,” 
continued Barbesieur, coming close to the ear of the Italian, 
“ what will you give me if I promise that you shall become 
her husband ? ” 

The eyes of the marquis glowed with desire, and his swarthy 
face was tinged with red. “ What would I give ? ” cried he. 


132 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


as he caught a glimpse of Laura on the dance. “ The half of 
my fortune, the half of my life, if, with one half of either, I 
might call her mine ! ” 

“ Nay,” said Barbesieur, with a sinister laugh, “ I am neither 
robber nor devil. I wish neither your fortune nor your soul 
in exchange for my wares. Laura is so headstrong, that she 
will have to be forced into happiness, and made to take what 
even now she is longing to snatch. So if I make you both 
happy, you will not then object to giving me a few of the 
crumbs that fall from your table ? ” 

“ I will give you any thing you desire, and my eternal grat- 
itude to boot, if you will help me to become possessor of that 
angel.” 

“ I am passionately fond of hunting, and the Marchioness 
de Bonaletta has the most tempting bit of woods that ever 
made a hunter’s heart ache to call it his. Now if you marry 
Laura, you become her guardian, and have absolute power 
over her property.” 

“I care nothing for her property,” cried the marquis, 
passionately. “Her beauty, her sweetness, and her noble 
birth, are wealth enough for me. In the golden book of 
Venice the name of the richest noble there inscribed is the 
Strozzi.” 

“Everybody knows that, dear marquis, and therefore you 
will not refuse the reward I claim from my sister’s own 
possessions. ’Tis but meet that she make a present to her 
brother on her wedding-day. So, then, we understand each 
other immediately after the ceremony of your marriage, you 
make out a deed by which you relinquish to me the usufruct 
of the Bonaletta estates in Savoy for life. Who gets them 
after me, I care not.” 

“ I consent ; and add thereunto a yearly pension of one 
thousand ducats. Does that content you ? ” 

“Your liberality is really touching. A thousand ducats to 
boot ! They will fall like a refreshing shower into a purse 
that is always as empty as the sieves of the Danaides. It is a 
bargain. You wed Laura Bonaletta, and I get her estates, and 
one thousand ducats a year.” 

“Here is my hand.” 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


133 


“ And mine. In one month, you shall both be on your way 
to Venice ; you a happy bridegroom, and she — your bride.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 

The dance was over, and the king reconducted Laura to her 
chaperone. “ My dear sister,” said he, “ the fascinations of the 
partner you selected for me are almost enough to reconcile 
one to a refusal from yourself. I am convinced that I have 
been the envy of every cavalier present. I withdraw, there- 
fore, that I may not stand in the way of the fair Laura’s ad- 
mirers.” 

And gracefully saluting his partner, the royal flirt betook 
himself at last to poor De Montespan, who had tact enough to 
smother her chagrin, and give him a cordial reception. It 
was better to be noticed late than never. 

“ Your highness,” whispered Laura, bending over the back 
of the duchess’s chair, “ pray command me not to dance any 
more. Do you see that swarthy, sinister face over there, close 
to Barbesieur ? It is the Marquis de Strozzi staring at me al- 
ready. He is about to come hither, and if you do not assist 
me I shall have to dance with him.” 

“ Never fear, darling,” whispered the duchess in return. 
“ They shall not rob me of you so soon. Take your place, und, 
being on duty, no one can claim you, were it the wild hunter 
himself.” 

Laura hastened to resume her station, and, in doing so, 
glanced toward the window, where stood the pale young man 
whom she had noticed before. Their eyes met again, and 
again she blushed. Laura bent her head, and, feigning to ar- 
range a displaced ringlet on the head of her mistress, she said, 
in low, earnest tones: “Pardon me, gracious mistress; but 
will you tell me who is that young cavalier in the recess of 
the window opposite ? ” 

“ Certainly, my dear,” replied the duchess in the same tone 


134 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of voice. u He is one whom all the courtiers avoid to-night — 
miserable timeservers as they are — for he has fallen into dis- 
grace with your father and the king. He is Prince Eugene of 
Savoy.” 

“Prince Eugene!” echoed Laura. “He who laid the 
weight of his whip over Barbesieur’s shoulders this morn- 
ing ! ” 

“Yes, the same, and he has been publicly rebuked for it to- 
night. Your father has received full satisfaction, Laura ; for, 
not only has his majesty offered a pointed slight to the man 
who disgraced Barbesieur, but he has paid him a signal com- 
pliment by opening the ball with his sister. ” 

“ If I had imagined that any thought of Barbesieur min- 
gled with the compliment paid me by the king, I would have 
refused to dance with him.” 

The duchess looked up astounded. “ Why, Laura, such an 
insult to his majesty would almost amount to treason. For 
Heaven’s sake, never utter such sentiments at court, child ! ” 

“ What care I for the court ? ” cried Laura, her eyes filling 
with tears. “ I am overwhelmed with the shame of having 
been made use of as a tool wherewith to humiliate the noble 
Prince de Carignan ! But I shall repair the wrong I have 
done him, and that in presence of the court ! ” 

“ Thoughtless, impulsive child, what would you do ? ” said 
Elizabeth-Charlotte, anxiously. “I really believe you are 
ready to go up and give him a kiss, by way of proving that 
you are not a party to his humiliation to-night ! ” 

“ Perhaps I am ! ” exclaimed Laura, passionately. “ The 
prince was right to punish Barbesieur for his cowardly at- 
tack upon a noble lady ; and my brother-in-law, De la Roche 
Guvon, was one of those who justify him. I, too, applaud his 
spirit ; for, in avenging his mother, he avenged mine. This 
morning, when no king was by to uphold the calumniator, all 
these nobles were the friends of the prince, and not one of 
them would lift the gauntlet which, with his brave hand, he 
flung to the world. And to-night they desert him ! — They are 
not worthy to touch the hem of his garment ! — But I will take 
his hand — the noble hand that had disgraced his mother’s tra- 
ducer beyond the power of royalty to undo ! ” 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


135 


“ You will do no STich tiling, you dear little madcap ! ” re- 
turned the duchess, glancing admiringly at the beaming 
countenance of the beautiful enthusiast. “ You have a brave 
heart, dear child ; but you must not allow it to run away with 
your judgment. You must keep your place at my side, nor 
let magnanimity get the better of discretion. The latter is a 
cardinal virtue in ^oman. But — see how the Marquis de 
Strozzi devours us with his eyes ; he is waiting until I cease 
speaking to come forward and claim your hand. Be com- 
forted — he shall not have it. Here he comes — let the cham- 
berlain have a chance to present him.” 

So saying, she turned away from Laura, and began to fan 
herself vigorously, while the marquis and the chamberlain 
advanced. 

“ Your royal highness,” said the latter, reverentially, “ may 
I present the Marquis de Strozzi ? ” 

“I am acquainted with him,” interrupted the duchess. 
“ He needs no introduction. How do you like Paris, marquis ? 
Why are you not dancing this evening ? ” 

“ Your royal highness has anticipated my wishes,” was the 
reply. “ I am anxious to dance, and crave your permission to 
offer my hand to the Marchioness de Bonaletta.” 

“ I regret to disoblige you,” answered the duchess, “ but you 
see that she is on duty, and etiquette forbids her to leave her 
post, except for two dances. His majesty has had the first, 
and for the second she is engaged.” 

“ Then I shall follow her example, and decline to dance,” 
returned He Strozzi, with his burning glances rivetted upon 
Laura’s face. 

She drew back haughtily. “ The Marquis de Strozzi will 
oblige me by following the example of some other person. I 
have no desire to be remarked by him in any way. " 

The marquis’s brow grew dark, and his eyes glowed like 
coals of fire. But he made an attempt to smile as he re- 
plied, “ However I might be inclined to obey your commands, 
I have it not in my power to comply with a request so un- 
reasonable.” 

The duchess saw how the crimson blood was mantling in 
the cheeks of her “dear little madcap,” and she thought it 


136 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


prudent to put an end to tlie skirmish by rising from her 
seat. 

“ I will take a turn through the ballroom,” said she. 
“ Come, marchioness.” 

She came down from the platform reserved to the various 
members of the royal family, and mingled with the gay groups 
below, addressing here and there a greeting to her friends, or 
stopping to receive their heartfelt homage. Side by side came 
the duchess and her lady of the bedchamber ; the latter all 
unconscious of her beauty, enjoying the scene with the zest of 
youth, unmindful of the fact that at every step she took, her 
admirers increased, until the cortege was as long as the trail 
of a comet. 

But one face she sees — the noble countenance of Prince 
Eugene —who, as she approaches the window near which he 
stands, looks as though the morning sun had shone upon his 
heart, driving away all darkness and all night. She sees that 
joyous look, and with a wild bound her heart leaps to meet 
his. Her brow crimsons with shame, and she presses close 
to the duchess, as if to seek protection from her own emo- 
tion. 

Elizabeth-Charlotte misunderstood the movement, or she 
may have guessed the longing that was struggling with deco- 
rum in the heart of her young attendant. She advanced to- 
ward the prince, and signed for him to approach. 

Eugene started forward and stood directly in front of them. 
“How is the Princess de Carignan?” asked the duchess, 
kindly, “ and why is she not here to-night ? I hope she is not 
indisposed ! ” 

“ Your highness,” returned Eugene, with a smile, “ she is 
ill /with a malady that has attacked every member of our 
family.” 

“ What malady, prince ? ” 

“ The malady of royal disfavor, your highness.” 

“ That is indeed a fearful malady, prince, for it rarely at- 
tacks the innocent.” 

“Pardon me, your highness,” returned Eugene, calmly, 
“since the death of Cardinal Mazarin ’tis a heritage in our 
family, and — ”, " 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 137 

“ Madame,” said a voice behind the duchess, “ be so good as 
to take my arm. The queen desires your attendance.” 

Eugene looked up, and saw a small, effeminate personage, 
magnificently attired, and wearing the broad, blue band of the 
order of St. Louis. He recognized the king’s brother, the Duke 
of Orleans. 

The duchess, with a sigh, laid her arm within that of her 
husband ; but, disregarding his frowns, she remained to say a 
parting word to the victim of kingly displeasure. 

“ Give my regards to the princess, your grandmother, and 
tell her that if her indisposition lasts, I will go in person to 
express my sympathy with you both.” 

“ Madame,” said the duke, angrily, while, with little regard 
to courtesy, he almost dragged her along with him, “ you will 
do no such thing. I cannot understand your audacity still 
less will I countenance it. The Prince of Savoy has been so 
pointedly slighted by his majesty, that no one dares be seen 
conversing with him ; it seems to me that you set a shameful 
example to the court by noticing one whom your king has 
been pleased to reprove.” 

“It seems to me that my example would be worse, were 
I to ignore my acquaintances because they happen to be 
momentarily out of favor at court,” replied Elizabeth-Char- 
lotte. “ Such miserable servility may beseem a courtier, 
but it ill becomes our princely station. And if the king 
speaks to me on the subject, I shall say as much to him, for 
his majesty has a noble heart and will approve my independ- 
ence.” 

While their royal highnesses were thus interchanging opin- 
ions on the subject of court ethics, a scene was being enacted 
behind them, which, had he witnessed it, would have called 
forth the indignation of the duke. 

The Marchioness Bonaletta, as a matter of course, had fol- 
lowed her mistress ; but during his short colloquy with the 
latter, Eugene had received so sweet a smile from her attend- 
ant, that he followed at a distance ; resolved, since he could 
do no more, to gaze at her until the ball was over. In spite 
of the throng which closed as fast as the ducal pair went by, 
Eugene saw that the marchioness had dropped her fan. It 
10 


138 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


became entangled in the train of another lady, and finally was 
dragged to the floor. 

Eugene rescued it from destruction, and hastened with it to 
its owner, who appeared just to have discovered her loss. 

“ You are looking for your fan ? ” said he, with a beaming 
smile. 

“ Yes, prince,” replied she, giving him in return a look that 
almost maddened him with joy— it was so kind, so, gentle so 
sympathizing. 

“I have been so fortunate as to find it,” replied he, in a 
voice whose music thrilled the heart of her to whom he spoke. 
“ And to be permitted to return it to you, confers upon me the 
first pleasurable sensation I have felt since I entered this un- 
friendly palace to-night.” 

<k I am happy to have been the means,” she began. But just 
then the Duke of Orleans turned around, and his indignation 
may be imagined when he saw the Prince of Savoy in conver- 
sation with a lady of the duchess’s household ! 

“ Call your lady of the bedchamber hither,” said he, impe- 
riously. “ That little abbe has the assurance to follow us, as 
though to defy his majesty, and prove to the court that, if no- 
body else esteems him, he has friends in the household of the 
Duchess of Orleans. Send that young lady on some errand.” 

The duchess walked a few steps farther, then turning 
around she beckoned to Laura. “ Come, Marchioness de Bona- 
letta, I must present you to the queen.” 

“ Ah ! ” thought Eugene, as he took up his position in the 
window again, “ if I may not follow her, at least I know her 
name I Marchioness Bonaletta — what a pretty name it is ! I 
have never heard it before, nor have I ever seen any thing that 
reminded me of her lovely person. ’Tis plain that she is a 
stranger at this corrupt court. Those limpid eyes, that brow 
of innocence, those heavenly smiles — O my God ! what sudden 
thrill of joy is this which pervades my being ? What flood of 
ecstasy is this which drowns my soul in bliss ! Oh, angel 
of beauty — ” 

But his raptures were suddenly brought to a close by the 
sight of Louvois, who with his son joined the party of the 
Duchess of Orleans. He did not like to see him so near his 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


139 


angel ; but his uneasiness increased to positive pain when he 
saw her extend her hand, and greet him with one of her sweet- 
est smiles. 

“ So,” thought Eugene, “ she is like the rest ! Louvois is 
the favorite of the king, and of De Maintenon, and therefore 
she greets him as though he were a near and dear friend. But 
what is it to me ? I came here to show his majesty that I shall 
maintain my rights in the face of his displeasure, and here I 
shall remain, though she and every other woman here do hom- 
age to my foes. What is the Marchioness Bonaletta to me ? ” 

But, in spite of himself, his eyes would wander to the spot 
where she stood, and his heart seemed ready to burst when he 
beheld Barbesieur approach her. He spoke to her and she an- 
swered him ; but Eugene could see that she was displeased. 
Could he have heard the words she addressed to Barbesieur, he 
would have hated himself for his unworthy suspicions, and 
w r ould have acknowledged that she was not like the rest. 

“ So my lovely sister has refused to dance with the Marquis 
de Strozzi ? ” said Barbesieur. 

“Yes,” was the curt reply. 

“ And may one venture to inquire why ? ” 

She darted a glance of contempt at him. “ Because he is 
your friend.” 

Barbesieur laughed. “ I really believe that you are in ear- 
nest, my candid sister. It is enough for a man to be my friend 
to earn your enmity.” 

“You are right,” said she, deliberately. 

“ But you will hardly go so far as to say that it suffices for 
a man to be my foe, to be your friend,” said he with an ugly 
frown. 

“ What if it were so ? ” said she. 

“ If it were so, I would advise my sister not to provoke me 
too far. I would advise her not to make any more demonstra- 
tions of regard to the little abbe of Savoy, and to remember 
that she is my sister.” 

“ When I heard of all that took place this morning at the 
Pre aux Clercs,” said Laura, “I remembered it to my shame 
and sorrow.” 

Barbesieur grew pale with rage and hissed into his sister’s 


140 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ear — “ Have a care, girl, how you rouse me to retaliation ! I 
can crush you like a worm under my heel ; and as for yonder 
princely beggar, he assured that I shall remember him to his 
cost.” 

u Which means that you will bring suit against him, and 
obtain damages,” replied she, contemptuously ; “ for you know 
that the Prince of Savoy will not condescend to fight a duel 
with Barbesieur de Louvois.” 

“I would not make myself ridiculous by fighting with such 
an apology for a man ; but I will crush him as I would any 
other reptile that attempts to injure me. There shall not be a 
day of his life that does not bring him some pang which he 
shall owe to the hate of Barbesieur de Louvois. And I counsel 
you not to imitate his audacity, for — ” 

“ Why, you scarcely expect me to bestow a horsewhipping 
upon you ? ” laughed Laura. “ But I am not afraid of you, 
Barbesieur ; it is not in your power to injure me.” 

“ If you are not afraid of me, so much the worse for you ; 
I should have thought that you had learned from your 
mother, how Barbesieur de Louvois nurses his hate, and how 
it blossoms into misery for those on whom he bestows it.” 

Laura’s eyes filled with tears, and her voice faltered. “ I 
did learn it from her martyrdom ; but she was not like me. 
She submitted where I would resist.” 

“ Resistance will only increase the bitterness of your punish- 
ment, and once more I warn you not to make friends of my 
enemies, and not to offer slights to my friends. The Marquis 
de Strozzi wishes to marry you ; your father is anxious for the 
match — so am J, and you shall marry the marquis, of that be 
assured. He has asked you to dance, to-night, and you shall 
dance with him, too. This plea of an engagement is a false- 
hood. Where is your partner ? ” 

“ I will remind him of our engagement, now that I am pre- 
pared to fulfil mine,” answered Laura. And, yielding to an 
impulse of aversion to Barbesieur, resolved to give him then 
and there proof unquestionable of her contempt ; impelled, 
too, by an enthusiastic longing to sympathize with one whom 
all had united to slight, and forgetful of the social restraints 
which it is always unwise for a woman to overleap, Laura 


THE LADY OF THE BEDCHAMBER. 


141 


pressed through the crowds that were assembling for the dance, 
and stepped so proudly by, that all wondered at the solemn 
earnestness of her mien, more resembling that of a priestess 
than of a young maiden at her first ball. 

If all other eyes were gazing upon her, those of Eugene 
were riveted upon her advancing figure with mingled rapture 
and wonder. He had long since forgotten the rudeness of the 
king and the contumely of his courtiers. Laura’s image filled 
his heart, and left no space therein for painful emotions. He 
had watched her countenance while Barbesieur had been 
speaking to her, and had guessed that their colloquy was any- 
thing but friendly. He had seen her turn suddenly away, and 
now she came nearer and nearer, until her dazzled worshipper 
lost all sense of time and place, and his enfranchised soul went 
out to meet hers. 

But at last she came so near, that he wakened from his ec- 
stasy, and remembered that he had nothing in common with 
that high-born girl ; for, shame had fallen upon his house, and 
royalty had turned its back upon him. 

But he had scarcely time to pass from heaven to earth be- 
fore she stood directly before him, her starry eyes uplifted 
to meet his, her sweet voice drowning his senses in melody. 

“ Prince,” said she, in clear, self-possessed tones that attract- 
ed the attention of those immediately around, “it appears 
that you have forgotten the engagement you made to dance 
with me this evening. Pardon me if I recall it to you.” 

So saying, she extended her little hand to Eugene, who, be- 
wildered with joy, was almost afraid to touch the delicate em- 
broidered glove that lay so temptingly near his. He was 
afraid that he had gone mad. But Laura smiled, and came a 
step nearer ; whereupon he gave himself up to the intoxicat- 
ing dream, and led her away to the dance. 

They took their place among the others, but the dancers 
looked upon them with glances of uneasiness and displeasure. 
How were they to know that they might not be compromised 
by their vicinity to an ostracized man, and how did they know 
that the king was not observing them, to see how they would 
receive this bold intruder ? 

They might have spared themselves all anxiety ; for, in the 


U2 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


first place, the king was in another room, at the card-table, 
and, in the second place, their sensitive loyalty was soon re- 
lieved from its perplexities. 

As a matter of course, Laura’s generous indiscretion had 
been witnessed by Barbesieur ; not only by him, however, but 
by her father and the Duchess of Orleans. Barbesieur, en- 
raged, would have followed, and torn her violently away, but 
Louvois’ hand was laid upon his shoulder, and Louvois’ voice 
(imperious even in a whisper) bade him remain. 

“No eclat , my son : we are the guests of his majesty.” 

“But I cannot brook her insolence,” muttered Barbesieur, 
in return. “ She is ray sister, and before she shall dance w T ith 
a man that has insulted me, I will fell him to the earth, were 
the king at my side to witness it.” 

“Be quiet, I command you, or you shall sleep to-night 
within the walls of the Bastile,” was the reply. “ God knows 
that you ought to avoid notoriety ; for, your affair with Prince 
Eugene has not covered you with glory. Eetire, then, if you 
cannot control yourself, and I will find means to put an end 
to this foolish demonstration of your sister.” 

The means were at hand ; they were concentrated in the 
person of his royal highness the Duke of Orleans. He had 
been about to join the dance, when he, too, witnessed the ter- 
rible sight of Laura de Bonaletta standing at the side of the 
little abbe of Savoy ! 

With a hasty apology to his partner, the Duchess de Chev- 
reuse, he strode away and joined madame. Elizabeth-Char- 
lotte saw him coming and heaved a sigh. 

“Now for a tempest in a teapot!” thought she. “To be 
sure, the anger of my lord is not much like that of a thunder- 
ing Jove ; yet I don’t know but what it is better to be struck 
dead by lightning, than to live forever within sound of the 
scolding tongue of a fishwife ! I must try, however, to be 
conciliatory in my tones, or poor Laura will get into trouble.” 

So she smiled as graciously as she could, but her affability 
was lost upon the duke. He was in a towering passion. 

“ Madame,” said he, in a low, but snappish voice, “ do you 
know that your lady of the bedchamber is dancing with the 
Prince of Savoy ? ” 


FIRST LOVE. 147 

steps were ever directed toward the same place, the hotel of the 
Duke of Orleans. 

On this fourth day after the ball, at dusk, Eugene left the 
Hotel de Soissons, and took the way, as usual, toward the Pa- 
lais Royal. Its long fagade was dimly lighted, and every 
thing within seemed hushed. 

“ I am fortunate,” thought he ; “ the duchess has dismissed 
her attendants, and she has retired to the pavilion.” 

He continued his way along the side-wing of the palace, 
until he arrived at the garden which occupied the space now 
contained between the Rue Vivienne and the Bourse. This 
magnificent garden was refreshed by plashing fountains, and 
decorated by noble trees and gay parterres ; but it was encom- 
passed by a high stone wall, of which the summit was defend- 
ed by short iron spikes whose uplifted points gave warning to 
all passers-by that intrusion into this paradise was attended 
with danger. 

But what cares love for “ stony limits,” or when did danger 
ever intimidate a stout heart ? 

Eugene was now at the extreme end of the garden. The 
deep, unbroken stillness of solitude reigned around. At times, 
and at a distance, was heard the faint rumbling of a coach ; 
but otherwise nothing interrupted the loneliness of the place 
and the hour. For, although nine o’clock had just sounded 
from the tower of St. Jacques, all Paris was at rest, save the 
few aristocrats who were on their way to balls and banquets, 
or the houseless wretches who, with their dark lanterns, were 
searching the gutters for a lost penny. 

So that Eugene was unobserved, and had full opportunity 
to draw from his cloak a package which proved to be a rope- 
ladder of silk ; to unroll, and fling it over the garden wall. It 
caught in the prongs, and in a few moments he was within 
the enchanted walls of the palace where Laura de Bonaletta 
dwelt. 

She was alone in her pavilion, in the room which led into 
the garden, and its glass doors now stood wide open. She had 
thrown aside her court-dress, and was now attired in a white 
peignior edged with delicate lace. Her feet were encased in 
slippers of blue satin embroidered with silver, and her hair, 


148 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


stripped of all ornament, was twisted into a coronal around 
her graceful head. 

She had dismissed her attendants, and sat beside a table of 
white marble, holding in her hand a book which she seemed 
to read — yet not to read. She turned its pages, and her eyes 
were fixed upon them, but little saw Laura of their contents, 
she was looking into another book, the book of her own heart ; 
and mysterious were the pages thereof, half painful, half pleas- 
ant, to peruse. 

Around her all was silent. From time to time the night 
wind sighed through the branches of the trees without, and a 
few sorrowing leaves fell rustling to the ground, while she, 
her book now laid aside, and her pretty hands folded in her 
lap, gazed and gazed at sky and earth, at moonlit paths, and 
darkly looming trees, but saw nothing of them all. Some- 
thing broke the perfect stillness. It was neither summer 
breeze, nor rustling leaf ; ’twas the crackling gravel that was 
being displaced by approaching footsteps. The sound was all 
unheeded by Laura, who heard nothing but the voice of her 
heart as it sang its first anthem of love. 

The moon emerged from a silver cloud, and Eugene’s figure 
darkened the threshold. For one moment he contemplated 
the beautiful picture before him, then with noiseless steps he 
approached and knelt at her feet. 

“ Kill me for my presumption,” whispered he, “ for I de- 
serve death. But I would rather die at your feet than live an- 
other hour out of your sight.” 

Laura spoke not a word in return, but neither did she cry 
out in terror or surprise. She merely gazed at Eugene with 
distended eyes, whose mysterious expressions he dreaded to in 
terpret. 

A feeling of anguish inexpressible pervaded his being. “ I 
thought so,” murmured he, bitterly. “ I thought so ; and 
yet I could not have done otherwise. Had I known that I 
was to be racked for my temerity, I must have sought you, 
alone and unattended — sought you as I would my Maker, 
when no curious eye was upon me to see my tears, no mock- 
ing tongue to echo my sighs ; but when, unfettered by the 
bonds of a conventional world, I was free to pour out the 


FIRST LOVE. 


149 


oceans of love that are drowning me in their sweetness ; and 
then ! — to live or die, as you should determine. I love you ! 
Do you hear ? I love you ! And with such strength of love, 
that if I am unworthy ; if, poor, ill-favored, unfortunate, the 
Prince of Savoy may not aspire to your hand, then call your 
people, and drive me hence ; for whether you welcome or 
whether you spurn, you still must hear me, while my yearning 
heart cries out for judgment. Speak, beloved ! I await my 
sentence — is it life or death ? ” 

He raised his pleading eyes to hers, and as they met, her 
beautiful head drooped lower and lower, until it almost 
touched his own. He felt the soft touch of her hands upon 
his shoulders, and heard the thrilling accents of her trem- 
bling voice, as, in tones so inaudible that none hut a lover’s 
ear could have guessed their sweet import, she whispered these 
words : 

“ I was waiting for thee.” 

With a wild cry of rapture, Eugene caught her to his 
heart, and imprinted one long, loving kiss upon her lips. 
Then he gazed upon her with an expression of passionate ten- 
derness, which transfigured his homely features and lent them 
beauty. 

“ Say that thou lovest me,” cried he, “ oh, say it again — 
again — again.” 

“I love thee,” repeated Laura, “I love thee, Eugene. 
When first our eyes met, I knew that my heart had found its 
sovereign. Oh, sweet vassalage, that never again will seek 
enfranchisement ! Oh, happy bondage, than liberty more pre- 
cious ! Bondage that makes me thine, and thou mine for- 
ever ! ” 

‘‘ Ay, forever ! ” echoed Eugene, while tears streamed from 
his eyes at sound of her delicious avowal. “We love each 
other ! Oh, my Laura, what magic in those blessed words ! 
We love each other ! I could weary echo with repetition of 
the sound : We ! ’Tis the first time in my life that my name 
has ever been joined with that of a fellow-being. My broth- 
ers, who enjoyed the privileges of their birth and rank, looked 
down with contempt upon one who was condemned to the ob- 
scurity of the priesthood ; my young sisters feared me, and I 


150 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


was too shy to ask for their love ; in my proud and beautiful 
mother’s heart there was no room for the son, to whom fate 
had allotted no share of her loveliness and grace. Alone in the 
midst of a family circle, alone in society, alone in the world, I 
thrust hack into my sorrowing soul the hopes, the loves, the 
aspirations of youth, and refused to listen to their pleadings. 
But in the depths of the night, when no mortal was by, and 
I stood alone in the presence of God, I called them up, and 
hade them weep with me that life and light were denied them. 
I mourned, and prayed for deliverance, but no friendly voice 
ever bade me be comforted. And so I lived, shunned and de- 
spised by my fellows.” 

“ No, no, my Eugene, not shunned and despised,” exclaimed 
Laura, while her gentle hands wiped away the tears that were 
streaming down her lover’s cheeks. “ You belie yourself and 
the world. It may not love you, but it has divined your worth. ” 

Eugene answered with a faint smile. “ My worth is small, 
beloved ; but no human being has ever divined the secrets of 
my ambitious heart. But ah ! how changed is life to me to- 
night ! I went to that ball to throw down the gauntlet of my 
hate before Louvois and his son. I was rebuked by the king, 
slighted by his nobles ; but I had no eyes to see, no pride to 
resent their insults. When I saw thee, the sun shone upon 
my heart, and there was light and love within. But oh ! when 
thou earnest so near that I felt the perfume of thy breath upon 
my cheek, and the touch of thy hand within my hand, then I 
was born again to a life of hope and happiness. My soul’s 
better half was found, and nevermore shall it w 7 ander from 
ray side. I am here at thy feet to ask thee for my wife. I 
have neither wealth nor repute to offer thee : I am a poor ap- 
panagist, a prince without fortune or distinction. But, dear- 
est, if thou wilt be mine, I swear by all the imprisoned aspira- 
tions which thy coming has liberated, that the wife of Eugene 
of Savoy shall have pride in her husband ! Be mine, be mine, 
and I will make thy name illustrious ! ” 

“ I am thine,” said Laura, fervently, “ for time and for 
eternity. I care not whether thy name be obscure or thy for- 
tunes adverse ; I love thee as thou art. ” And so saying, she 
extended her hand. 


FIRST LOVE. 


151 


He grasped it in his own and covered it with rapturous 
kisses. “ From this blissful hour, then, thou art my betrothed ; 
and to-morrow I shall ask the consent of madame to our mar- 
riage. Or hast thou relatives whom I must know and propi- 
tiate ? ” 

At this innocent question, Laura’s youth and animal spir- 
its got the better of her sentiment. She laughed heartily. 
“ What !” cried she, u you do not know who I am ? ” 

“ No, sweetest ; I know not, I care not who thou art. What 
have I to do with thy surroundings ? I love thee — only thee. 
If thou hast father and mother, I will throw myself at their 
feet, and beg their blessing for us both.” 

Laura’s hilarity had all vanished. As Eugene had spoken of 
her father and mother, her cheeks had blanched, and the smile 
had died from the rosy lips. “ Alas ! ” cried she, clasping her 
hands, “ he knows not who I am ! ” 

“ I know thou art an angel, and that is enough to make me 
the happiest of men.” 

“True, true,” murmured Laura. “When my grandmother 
retired from court, he was but a boy.” 

“ And had I been a man, what to me are the comings and 
goings of the ladies of the court ? ” said Eugene, simply. “ But 
w T hy art thou troubled, my beloved ? ” 

“Alas ! alas !” murmured Laura, her eyes filling wdth tears. 
“ May God grant that you spoke the truth, Eugene de Carignan, 
when you said that you cared not who was my father or my 
mother ! ” 

“ So help me Heaven, I do not care ! ” was the fervent re- 
sponse, while he gazed passionately upon his new-found treas- 
ure. 

She bent her head, and lowered her voice to a whisper. 
“Eugene,” said she, almost gasping for breath, “I bear my 
mother’s name ; but I am the daughter of your bitterest ene- 
my, Louvois.” 

Eugene started back in horror. “ Louvois ! Louvois ! ” 
echoed he, mournfully. “ And Barbesieur, her brother ! ” 

“ Not my own brother,” cried Laura, terrified at the effect 
of her revelation. “Before I had seen you, I approved your 
act, and bade God bless the son that had avenged his mother’s 


152 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES’. 


wrongs upon her traducer. Ah, Eugene ! my affianced, say 
that you do not hate me ! I knew that you were the son of 
the Countess de Soissons, and yet I loved you ! — perhaps the 
more, that Barbesieur was your enemy.” 

“And I love you , my own one, despite your parentage. I 
love you so far beyond all feelings of pride or enmity, that I 
am ready to humble myself before my mother’s enemy, and be 
to him a son.” 

“ He will never receive you as such,” cried she, bitterly. 
“Woe- is me, if he should learn what has transpired to-night 
between us ! He would part us by force.” 

“ Part us he shall not ! ” exclaimed Eugene, passionately, 
while he flung his arm around the maiden’s slender waist, and 
pressed her wildly to his heart. “ Thou art Louvois’ daughter, 
but my betrothed.” 

“ I am Barbesieur’s sister, but thou art my affianced ! ” 

“ Neither daughter nor sister of any man, my Laura ; thou 
art thyself — and being thyself — mine.” 

“Thine for life and death,” was her reply, “and from this 
hour I know no will of mine.” 

“Then, ere thy father suspects our love, it must be sancti- 
fied before the altar of God. Our faith once plighted there, no 
hand of mortal can wrest thee from my side. Art ready to 
speak the irrevocable words that bind us together as man and 
wife ?” 

“ I am ready,” replied she, clasping her hands, and looking 
solemnly up to heaven. “If, in my eager acquiescence, I seem 
unmaidenly, forgive me ; but I dare not be coy, Eugene ; we 
have no time for conventional reserve, and I must act as be- 
comes a brave and trusting woman, for every moment is 
fraught with danger. I am surrounded by spies, even of my 
own household, and, until I hear the blessing of the priest, I 
shall disbelieve my own happiness.” 

“Then hear me, dearest. I know how crafty are the spies 
of Louvois, and I tremble lest the whispering breeze betray 
our secret. Yes, we must be diligent, so diligent that Fate shall 
stand between our love and all contingency. For two days 
I shall part from thee— long days that will steep my soul in 
darkness ! But day after to-morrow, at this same hour of the 


FIRST LOVE. 


153 


evening, I shall be here with the chaplain of the Princess de 
Carignan, an old and dear friend, who will bless our bridal. As 
witnesses, I will be accompanied by my kinsmen, the Princes 
de Conti, two of the worthiest nobles of France. Be in readi- 
ness, my best beloved, that not a word need be spoken until 
we are married. Then away with me to the Hotel de Sois- 
sons, where those w T ho love, may seek thee in thy husband’s 
home. ” 

“ So soon ? ” murmured Laura, blushing. “ Shall I leave 
my dear mistress without a word ? Is she not to share our 
secret ? ” 

“ Assuredly not ; for it would burden her with a painful re- 
sponsibility. It would be her duty to betray you, artless 
child.” 

“ Oh, I will not speak ! ” exclaimed Laura, eagerly. “ I 
will be silent ; and w T hen — when we are married, we will beg 
so humbly for forgiveness that she will have to grant it.” 

“You must leave a note declaring everything ; for with our 
marriage ends all secrecy. I will neither see you nor write 
until the appointed time. Dismiss your household as early as 
possible, and, if all is propitious, place a light in yonder win- 
dow. If I see it, I will enter with the priest, and, lest there 
should be interruption, he will begin the ceremony at once.” 

“ Alas, Eugene ! ” said Laura, looking anxiously around, 
“ some evil spirit is about. It whispers me that this shall 
never be ! Speak to me — in mercy speak ! Let me hear thy 
voice, for even now its sinister threatenings are freezing the 
blood in my veins ! ” 

“ Nay, sweet one, fear nothing ! My love shall compass thee 
with a charm that shall keep away all evil spirits, and make 
thy life a waking dream of bliss.” 

“ How can I ever prove to thee how much I love thee ? ” 

“ Thou wilt prove it to me when, day after to-morrow, thou 
forsakest father and brother, to cleave to me alone ; for never 
will my mother’s son take the hand of Barbesieur Louvois.” 

“Nor my mother’s daughter,” cried Laura, vehemently, 
“ for she, too, has a debt of hatred to pay to the man who broke 
that mother’s heart. And believe me, our marriage wall 
avenge us both ; for it will end his contemptible intrigues to 
11 


154 : 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


sell my hand to whomsoever chinks most gold in his. And 
now, dear Eugene, good-night ! ” 

“ Must I be exiled so soon, Laura ? What have I done to 
he thus driven from paradise ? ” 

“ Nothing — nothing,” stammered she. “ But my mother’s 
name has made me fear that — that I am wrong to hold such 
long parley with you in secret and at night. Methinks I see 
that mother’s pleading eyes before me, and oh, Eugene ! when- 
ever they rest upon me thus, ’tis because danger threatens ! 
Go, beloved, and God be with you ! ” 

“I go,” sighed he. “I would not stay one moment to 
wound your sweet scruples, my madonna. One more kiss, 
and then — good-night ! ” 

They walked side by side until they stood upon the thresh- 
old. Eugene put his arm around her waist, and kissed her 
fair brow. 

“Look,” said she, “at yonder star that is just emerging 
from a fleecy cloud. It soars joyously upward now, and shall 
be to us an omen of hope and happiness. Farewell.” 

“ Farewell ! ” was the sad response, and Eugene went slow- 
ly down the dark avenue, until he was lost in the gloom of 
night. Laura lingered for a while, listening to his footsteps, 
then resumed her seat at the table. 

A half hour went by, and Laura sought her chamber. To 
her surprise she found her waiting-woman stretched at full 
length on the carpet, in a deep sleep, so deep that her mistress 
had much trouble to waken her. When, at last, she had been 
made to rise, she seemed scarcely to know where she was, or 
to whom she was speaking. 

“ I beg your ladyship’s pardon,” said she drowsily, “ I was 
dreaming. I thought I heard robbers in the house, and when 
your ladyship spoke, I was struggling.” 

“ God he thanked, there are no robbers here ! ” returned 
Laura, kindly. “ Perhaps you heard the sentry’s step in the 
park, and you ought to know that the Palais Poyal is strictly 
guarded. But why are you not in bed with the rest ? I dis- 
missed you all.” 

“ I have no right to retire before my mistress,” returned the 
girl, obsequiously. “ Therefore, I sat in your ladyship’s room 


FIRST LOYE. 


155 


to await you, but sleep overcame me, and I humbly crave your 
pardon. Shall I close the door that leads to the garden ?” 

“What ! still afraid of robbers, Louise?” laughed Laura. 
“Well — close the door, if you will — good-night.” 

“ Can I do nothing for your ladyship ? ” 

“Thank you — yes. Open the door of Madame Dupont’s 
room, and let me feel that I am within hearing of my dear old 
Cerberus. That is all. ” 

The waiting-woman did as she was bidden, and then retired 
to her room, but not to sleep. She seated herself before a 
table, drew out her portfolio, and began to write. Now and 
then she paused and looked up, when the sinister light that 
shone in her eyes streamed through the room like the phos- 
phorescent glow of the lichen that moulds in the churchyard. 

She wrote the whole night long, and day dawned before 
she rose from her task. 

“ Ah,” sighed she, “ for such a service surely he will return 
to me ! I have repeated their conversation, word for word, 
not a sigh or a kiss have I forgotten. Who but his poor 
Louise would have served him so faithfully ! ’Tis a vile trade, 
that of a spy; nor would I have accepted such a mission for 
all the gold in the king’s treasury ; but, for love of Barbesieur 
Louvois, I would sell my own sister to infamy — why not his ?” 

While thus soliloquizing, she had left her own room and 
crossed the corridor that led to the men’s apartments. She 
opened the door of one of the rooms without knocking, and 
going directly up to a bed she touched the sleeper, and having 
wakened him, whispered : 

“ George, awake — awake ! — rouse up quickly ! ’ 

“What is it ?” mumbled George, stretching himself. 

“ Hist ! — It is I, Louise. Dress yourself as speedily as you 
can, and away with this packet to your master. Give it to 
no messenger, but place it in his own hands, and he will re- 
ward you magnificently, for you will have done him a great 
service.” 

She glided away and returned to her own room, leaving the 
door open. In less than fifteen minutes George stood before 
her, equipped for secret service. “ Mademoiselle Louise,” whis- 
pered he, “ I shall be with Monsieur de Louvois in ten min- 


156 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


utes ; for I have the key of the postern, and can slip out and 
back again without anybody being the wiser for my little ex- 
cursion.” 

“ So much the better. Away with you, and the sooner the 
better ! ” 

George went on his way, and Louise stood in her doorway 
until she heard him softly open and close the outer door be- 
low ; then she threw herself upon her bed to sleep. Her last 
words were these : 

“ Oh, faithless but loved— now can I dream that thine arms 
are around me once more I ” 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE BETRAYAL. 

The sun was high in the heavens when Laura awoke, and 
rang for her waiting- worn an. Mademoiselle Louise, fresh, 
smiling, and officious, came at once from the anteroom, and 
began the toilet of her mistress. She seemed to take more 
pleasure than usual in gathering her magnificent dark coils 
into a net of gold and pearls, and to liuger more admiringly 
than ever over the last little touches given to the lace that bor- 
dered Laima’s neglige of spotless white mull. 

She certainly was one of the loveliest of created beings, and 
so thought good Madame Dupont, as her ex-pupil came into the 
dining-room, and imprinted two hearty kisses on her withered 
old cheeks. They sat down together to breakfast, and George, 
looking as innocent as if he had just awaked from the sleep of 
the righteous, came in with their morning chocolate. All went 
on as usual, except with the young marchioness, who, instead 
of laughing and chatting of Italy, and Bonaletta, as she was 
accustomed to do with her “ dear Dupont,” sipped her choc- 
olate in silent abstraction. Breakfast had long been over, and 
still she sat in her arm-chair, looking dreamily into the garden, 
her head leaning on her hand, her lips sometimes rippling 
with a smile, sometimes opening with a gentle sigh. 


THE BETRAYAL. 


157 


She had been plunged in her blissful reverie for almost 
an hour, when the door was opened, and George appeared be- 
fore her. 

“ Your ladyship,” said he, “ a man without desires speech 
with you.” 

“ Who is he, George ? ” asked Laura, reluctantly returning 
to the world and its exigencies. 

“ He will not say, my lady. He wears no livery, but says 
that your ladyship knows whence he comes and why. He has 
a bouquet which was forgotten yesterday evening.” 

Laura darted from her chair ; then, blushing deeply, she 
stopped, and recalled her wandering senses. 

“ Admit him,” said she, trying to speak carelessly. “ I 
will inquire what this means.” 

“ Oh, ’tis a greeting from him,” thought she ; but before 
she had time to surmise any further, the door reopened, and a 
young man entered the room, holding in his hand a superb 
bouquet of rare and exquisite flowers. 

“Who sent you hither?” asked Laura, with wildly-beating 
heart. 

“ A cavalier whose name I do not know,” replied the young 
man, looking timidly up at the dazzling vision of beauty 
that stood before him. “ I am first clerk in the largest estab- 
lishment of the Marche aux Fleurs , and the gentleman who 
bespoke the bouquet ordered the handsomest flowers in our 
collection. Your ladyship sees that we have filled the order 
with the greatest care ; for this bouquet contains specimens 
of our rarest and most expensive flowers. To be sure, the gen- 
tleman paid an enormous price for it, saying that nothing we 
could furnish was too costly for the occasion.” 

Laura had listened with wonderful patience to all this idle 
babble. “ Give me the flowers,” she said. “ They are indeed 
most beautiful, and I am grateful for them, both to you and 
the amiable unknown who sends them.” 

“ He is very small ; of sallow complexion, but with large 
black eyes,” replied the clerk, while, with an awkward scrape 
and bow, he presented the bouquet to Laura. “He was so 
pleased with our selection, that he kissed one of the flow- 


158 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Before she had time to control her tongue, Laura had ex- 
claimed, “ Which one ? ” 

“The blue one, your ladyship, called Comelina coelestis .” 

Laura looked down at the Comelina coelestis , and fain 
would she have robbed it of its kiss, but she consoled herself 
with the thought that she would rifle it of its sweets as soon as 
the messenger left. 

He came closer. “ Your ladyship,” said he, in a very low 
voice, “ I bear a message, as well as a nosegay. Is there any 
one about, to overhear me ? ” 

“No one,” replied Laura, breathless and eager. 

“ Search the bouquet, and under the Comelina your lady- 
ship will find something.” 

Laura’s rosy fingers were buried in the flowers, and she 
drew from its fragrant hiding-place a small slip of paper. 

“ Your ladyship is requested, if you consent, to return, as an 
answer, the four first words of the note.” 

Laura unrolled the paper, and read : “ Not to-morrow , but 
to-day. Danger threatens, and we must anticipate. — E.” 

Her face flushed, and her eager eyes were fixed upon that 
little scroll which, to her and her lover, was of such great im- 
port. What could it mean ? She read it again and again, un- 
til the words danced before her reeling senses. 

The clerk came closer yet. “Your ladyship,” whispered 
he, “ I must take back my answer. Somebody might come 
in.” 

“ The answer ? ” gasped she, scarcely knowing what he said. 
“ True, true, there must be an answer.” She stood for a mo- 
ment irresolute, then a shudder thrilled through her frame, 
and she felt as if some evil spirit had again come nigh. She 
raised her eyes to the face of the messenger, as though she 
would have looked into the penetralia of his thoughts. 

“ I am to write four words ? ” asked she, plaintively. “You 
know, then, where he lives ? ” 

The clerk replied without the least embarrassment : “ Par- 
don me, I told your ladyship that I was unacquainted with 
the cavalier. He awaits my return in the flower-market, and 
lest I should be too long absent, he hired a fiacre to bring me 
forth and back.” 


TflE BETRAYAL. 


159 


“ He awaits my answer,” thought Laura. “ Oh, it must be 
so ! He shall not be left in suspense ! ” 

She went hurriedly to a table, and wrote, “ Not to-morrow , 
but to-day .” 

“ Here,” said she, “ is my answer, and before you go, I beg 
you to accept this for your trouble.” 

She was about to hand him a purse of gold, when he re- 
treated, and raised his hand in token of refusal. 

“ I thank your ladyship, I have already been paid, and have 
no right to a reward from you. May I be permitted to take 
my leave ? ” 

“ Yes ; hasten, I implore you,” returned Laura, wondering 
at his disinterestedness. 

Scarcely had the commissionnaire taken his leave, when 
the door of the antechamber was opened, and a lackey an- 
nounced : 

“ Madame, her royal highness the Duchess of Orleans ! ” 

Laura hastily thrust the paper in her bosom, and, coming 
forward, kissed the hand of her friend. But as she did so, 
she felt the blood rush to her temples, and bent low her head 
to hide her confusion. 

“I could not stay away any longer,” began the unsuspect- 
ing duchess. “ For three days monsieur has been confined to 
his room with some trifling ailment, for which peevishness 
seems to be his only palliative. He is one of those who, when 
he sneezes, imagines that the earth is shaken to her founda- 
tions ; and when he snuffles, that all the angels in heaven 
drop on their knees to pray for him. With some trouble, I 
prevailed flpon him to give me one hour wherein to make 
some change in my dress. I have accomplished the change 
in fifteen minutes, and the remainder of the hour I come to 
spend with you.” 

“ Thank you, dear friend,” replied Laura, who had now re- 
covered her self-possession, and was sincerely glad to see the 
duchess. Then leading her to a divan, the graceful young 
hostess dropped down on a cushion at the feet of her royal 
guest, and continued : “ I have been wondering why I did not 
see my gracious mistress ; I thought she had forgotten me.” 

“ How could you do her such injustice ? ” replied Elizabeth- 


160 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Charlotte, affectionately. “ I have been longing for the sound 
of your carolling voice, and the sight of your beaming face. 
Let me look at you,” continued she, taking Laura’s head be- 
tween her two hands, and gazing upon her with fondest ad- 
miration. 

Poor Laura could ill bear the test of such loving scrutiny. 
She blushed scarlet, and her long black eyelashes fell at once 
under the searching look of the duchess’s round blue eyes. 

“ Laura ! ” exclaimed she, anxiously, “ something ails you, 
my darling ; what have you on your heart that you are hid- 
ing from me ? ” 

“ Dear, dear duchess,” stammered Laura, “ I have nothing 
to—” 

“ Nay, child, do not stoop to untruth—” 

“I cannot — I will not,” cried Laura, bursting into tears. 
“ I have a — secret — but you shall know it — soon.” 

“Gracious Heaven !” cried the duchess, turning very pale, 
“ what has happened ? What evil tidings am I to hear ? ” 

“ No evil tidings, my dearest mistress, no evil tidings ! 
Nothing but joy — joy unspeakable. Do you remember what I 
told you on that happy morning of the ball, that if I ever loved 
I would leave even your dear self to follow the man of my 
choice ? Well ! ” cried she, her face breaking out into bright 
smiles, while glistening tears lay like dew-drops upon her 
rose-tinted cheeks, “ he is here ! He came down from the 
moon on yesternight, and brought two great stars in his head 
instead of eyes ; stars that I had no sooner looked upon, than 
I fell madly in love. Oh ! he was sent hither by the good 
God, and it is His will that I love him, and forsake all others, 
to follow whithersoever he leads ! ” 

“ Is she mad ? ” cried the duchess, in alarm. “ Yesternight ? 
— came from the moon ? — Who came, Laura ? ” 

“God and my mother know his name, and both have 
blessed us ; but I dare not tell it yet — not even to you. Pray 
ask me no more— for I may not say another word.” 

“Not say another word?” said the duchess, shaking her 
head, and looking reproachfully at her favorite. “ Then there 
is something wrong in this headlong love, and it is no mes- 
sage to your heart from above. Afraid to say more to your 


THE BETRAYAL. 


161 


best friend — to her who replaces your mother? — When saw 
you this preterhuman being ? Who ? — Great God ! ” cried 
she, suddenly, putting her hands to her heart, “ can it be ! Yes 
— it must be Prince Eugene ! ” 

Laura clapped her hands, and then threw herself in the 
duchess’s arms. u Yes — you have guessed — it is he whom I 
shall love to-day, to-morrow, and forever. But not another 
word, my own dear mistress. To-morrow you shall know all, 
and be assured that there is no wrong either done or to be 
done — I can say but this to-day, that he certainly came down 
from the moon, and is the only luminary whose rays shall 
ever shine upon my heart ! ” 

While Laura was pouring out her childish half-confidences, 
her disinterested friend, the commissionnaire, was similarly en- 
gaged in the anteroom with Master George. 

This latter worthy, after a few whispered words from the 
former, excused himself to the lackeys of her royal highness, 
who were in waiting there, and retreated to the corridor with 
the clerk. 

“Now, George,” whispered he, “mark what I tell you. 
Your master says that the coachman must be ready with the 
travelling-carriage of the marchioness at ten o’clock to-night ; 
that Mademoiselle Louise must secretly pack up some of her 
lady’s effects and her own, and have them conveyed to the 
chariot throughout the day ; and that all must be done so that 
her ladyship shall suspect nothing.” 

“ It shall be done. And so her ladyship is to go on a jour- 
ney at ten o’clock to-night ? What an hour to set out ! ” 

“Yes, at ten o’clock precisely, and the blessing of God go 
with her ! ” 


BOOK III. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 

All was bustle and confusion in the Hotel de Soissons. A 
crowd of workmen filled its halls ; some on ladders, regilding 
walls and ceilings ; some on their knees waxing the inlaid 
floors ; and others occupied in removing the coverings, and 
dusting the satin cushions of the rich furniture of the state 
apartments. The first upholsterers in Paris had been sum- 
moned to the work of preparation, and the general-in-chief of 
the gilders stood in their midst, giving orders to his staff, and 
sending off detachments for special service. He held in his 
hand a roll of paper resembling a marshal’s baton, with which 
he assigned their posts to his men. Some of his subalterns 
approached, to ask in what style the walls of the reception- 
rooms were to be decorated. 

“ I must see the Prince of Savoy about that,” said he, with 
a flourish. And he took his way for the prince’s cabinet. 
“ Announce me to his highness,” said he, as he entered the 
antechamber. 

“ His highness is at home to nobody to-day, sir,” replied 
Conrad. 

“ He will be at home for me,” said the decorator, compla- 
cently. “ Say to the prince that I desire an interview on busi- 
ness of great moment, connected with the embellishment of 
the hotel ; and without a conference with himself we cannot 
proceed. I am Monsieur Louis, the master of the masters of 
decoration.” 

Conrad, quite awed by the stateliness of Monsieur Louis, 
went at once to announce him, and returned with a summons 
for him to enter thecabinet. 


( 162 ) 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


163 


Eugene met him with a bright smile of welcome, and asked 
what he could do to assist Monsieur Louis. 

“Your highness,” replied monsieur, “my workmen have 
gilded, waxed, and dusted the apartments, and the important 
task of decorating them is about to commence. I am here to 
inquire of your highness what is to be the character of the 
decorations. Are they to have a significance that betokens 
Honor, Friendship, Art, or Love ? ” 

Eugene could not repress a smile as he asked whether, for 
the expression of these various sentiments, there were different 
styles of decoration. 

“Most assuredly,” was the pompous reply. “It depends 
entirely upon the nature of the guest or guests to he enter- 
tained. If your highness is to receive a personage of distinc- 
tion (a king, for example), your decorations must be emblemat- 
ic of respect. They must consist of- laurels, lilies, and banners. 
If a friend or one of your own noble kinsmen, the decorations 
have no special significance ; we mingle flowers, festoons, and 
pictures that are not allegorical. If you invite a company of 
artists, poets, musicians, and the like, the principal decorations 
surmount the seat of the Maecenas who entertains, and the 
rest of the apartment is left in simplicity.” 

“ But you spoke of a fourth style,” said Eugene, blushing. 

“ Indeed I did, your highness ; and on that style we lavish 
our best efforts. If the guest is to be a bride, then our walls 
and ceilings must be ornamented with rich designs emblematic 
of love. We must have cupids, billing doves, and wreaths of 
roses, mingled with orange-flowers. Added to this, the deco- 
rations must begin in the vestibule, and be carried out in char- 
acter, through the entire palace.” 

“Well,” said Eugene, his large eyes glowing with delight, 
“ let your decorations be appropriate to a bridal.” 

“ Impossible, your highness ! This style requires great 
originality of conception, and time to carry out the designs. 
It would require a hundred workmen, and then I doubt—” 

“ Employ more than a hundred,” returned Eugene, “ and it 
can be done in a day. Indeed it must be done, and— I ask of 
you as a favor not to mention to any one in what style you are 
decorating the Hotel de Soissons. 


164 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Your highness, I will answer for myself, hut I cannot an- 
swer for the discretion of a hundred workmen, who, precisely 
because they are asked to be silent, would prefer to be com- 
municative.” 

“Well — do your best, but remember that your work must 
be done to-day.” 

“ It shall be done, your highness, and when you see it, you 
will confess that I am the first decorateur of the age.” 

So saying, Monsieur Louis made his bow and strutted 
off. 

Eugene looked after him with a smile. “ He is proud and 
happy,” said the prince, “ and yet he merely embellishes the 
palace wherein love’s festival is to be held. But for me — oh, 
happiest of mortals ! is the festival prepared. Laura, adored 
Laura, I must speak thy name to the walls, or my heart will 
burst with the fullness of its joy ! How shall I kill the weary 
hours of this day of expectation ? How cool the hot blood 
that rushes wildly through my veins, and threatens me with 
loss of reason from excess of bliss ! I am no longer a solitary, 
slighted abbe ; I am a hero, a giant, for I am beloved ! ” 

At that moment the door was hastily opened, and Conrad 
made his appearance. 

“Your highness,” said he, “a messenger is here from her 
royal highness, madame, and begs for an audience. ” 

Eugene started, and his brow clouded with anxiety. “ A 
messenger from madame,” murmured he. “What can — how 
should the duchess ? But — Conrad, admit him.” 

“Speak,” cried Eugene, as soon as the messenger entered 
the room. “ What are her royal highness’s commands ? ” 

“ Her royal highness the Duchess of Orleans requests his 
highness Prince Eugene of Savoy to visit her immediately. 
And that no delay may occur, her royal highness’s equipage is 
at the door, waiting for his excellency.” 

Eugene answered not a word. With an imperious wave of 
the hand, which was justly interpreted into a command to 
clear the passage, he strode on and on through the corridors of 
the Hotel de Soissons, crushing with his foot Monsieur Louis's 
choicest garlands, that lay on the floor ready to wreathe the 
walls and mirrors of the rooms of state. 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


165 


Monsieur Louis was shocked at such desecration ; but still 
more shocked was he to observe what a change had come over 
the face of the prince since their interview scarce half an hour 
ago. Reckless of the ruined garlands that followed his track, 
pale and silent, he went on and on, down the marble staircase, 
and through the vestibule, until he flung himself into the 
coach, and cried : 

“ On, for your life ! urge your horses to their topmost 
speed ! ” 

The coachman obeyed, and went thundering down the 
streets, little heeding whether the equipage that bore the royal 
arms trod down half a dozen boors on its way or not. 

It drew up with a sudden jerk before the Palais Royal ; 
and the messenger, who had followed on horseback, asked if 
his highness would follow him. He had madame’s orders to 
introduce her visitor without further ceremony, by a private 
staircase, leading to her own apartments. 

Doubtless the duchess had heard the carriage as it stopped, 
for, when Eugene entered the anteroom, she was standing in 
the door of her cabinet, visibly impatient for his arrival. She 
beckoned him to approach, and closed the door with her own 
hand. 

She gave him no time for ceremonious greeting. “ God be 
thanked, you are here ! ” exclaimed she. “ Put down the por- 
tiere, that no one may hear what I have to say.” Eugene 
obeyed mechanically, and loosening its heavy tassels, the 
crimson satin curtain fell heavily to the floor. 

“And now,” cried the duchess, indignantly, “now, Prince 
Eugene of Savoy, I command you to tell me the truth, and the 
whole truth ! What have you done with her ? How could 
you be so unknightly as to take advantage of her innocent 
and affectionate nature, to wrong one of the purest and most 
perfect of God’s creatures ! My heart is like to break with its 
weight of sorrow and disgrace ; and, had it not been for 
Laura’s sake, I would have laid my complaint before his ma- 
jesty. But I must not expose her to the world’s contumely, 
and therefore I endure your presence here. Tell me at once 
what have you done with my darling ? ” 

Eugene could scarcely reply to this passionate appeal. His 


1G6 . 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


senses reeled — his heart seemed to freeze within him. He 
thought he comprehended ; and yet — 

“ Who ? Who is gone ? Oh, duchess, be merciful ; what 
mean these words of mystery ? ” 

The duchess eyed him scornfully. “ Base seducer, dare you 
question me ? Do you strive to delude me into believing that 
you do not know of whom I speak ? I demand of you at once 
the person of the Marchioness de Bonaletta ! ” 

“ Laura ! ” cried Eugene, in a tone of deepest despair. 
“ Laura gone ! And you say that I enticed her away ! ” 

“ Tell me the truth, tell me the truth,” cried madame. 

“ The truth ! ” groaned Eugene, while the duchess started 
from her seat, and grasped both his hands in hers. 

“ Have mercy,” stammered he, trembling as if an ague had 
suddenly seized him. “ Is she no longer — here ? ” 

“ She is no longer here,” echoed the duchess, staring in as- 
tonishment at the writhing features of the unhappy prince. 

“ You know not where she is ? ” gasped he, faintly. 

“ No,” cried she, “ no ! You look as though you were your- 
self astounded, Prince Eugene ; but you will no longer deny 
your guilt when I tell you that my poor innocent child has 
told me all.” 

“ What — all ? ” asked Eugene. 

“ She told me that you were lovers. And now, prevaricate 
no longer ; it is useless and renders you still more infamous.” 

“ What more did she say ? ” asked Eugene, unconscious that 
his tone was as imperative as that of an emperor. 

“ Nothing more. She merely told me that in two days I 
should learn all. Alas ! I have learned it to my cost, and to 
her ruin ! ” 

“ And you accuse me of enticing her ! Great God ! if my 
heart were not breaking with anguish, it would break that 
such baseness could be attributed to me. Would that I could 
answer you, duchess, hut God in heaven knows that I was ig- 
norant of her departure, until I learned it from yourself ! ” 

“ Was ever a man so hold in falsehood ! ” cried the duch- 
ess, losing all command of her temper. “ I have in your own 
handwriting the proof of your wickedness. Now mark me ! 
This morning, the second woman in waiting of the marchion- 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


167 


ess came frightened to my apartments to tell me that her mis- 
tress, her woman Louise, and George, had disappeared from 
the pavilion, no one could surmise when. I was so overcome 
with terror that I hurried to the pavilion, and alas ! found that 
it was indeed so. Neither her own bed, nor that of the serv- 
ant who accompanied her, had been occupied. I looked 
everywhere for some clew to the mystery, when, on the floor 
near her morning-dress, which hung on a chair, I found this 
scrap of paper, which, as it is signed with your initials, you 
will not deny, I presume.” 

With eyes that flashed fire, she almost dashed the paper in 
his face. Eugene took it, and, having given it one glance, he 
turned pale as death, and it fluttered from his palsied hands to 
the floor. 

“ Heavens, what can ail him ! ” cried the duchess, sympa- 
thizing, in spite of herself, with his sudden sorrow. He was 
ghastly as a spectre, and his whole frame shook like the leaf 
of an aspen. 

u I did not write it,” gasped he, hut almost inaudibly ; for 
his teeth chattered so that he could scarcely articulate a sound. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the duchess, now thoroughly con- 
vinced of his innocence, and feeling her terror increase with 
the conviction, “ what ! you did not write these words ? ” 

He shook his head, but no sound came from his blanchea> 
lips. He laid his hands upon his heart as if to stifle its an- 
guish ; then, raising them to his head, he pressed them to his 
temples, and so paced the room for a while. Then he came 
and stood before the duchess, whose compassionate eyes filled 
with tears as they met his look of anguish. Finally, he heaved 
a long sigh, and spoke. 

“ My name has been used to deceive her,” said he. “ She 
has never seen my writing, and thus she fell into the snare.” 

“ But I cannot comprehend who it is that possessed such 
influence over her as to frighten her into silent acquiescence 
of the fraud. Laura is young, but she is prudent and resolute. 
These words had some meaning which could be referred to 
you, or she would not have understood them.” 

“ Ay,” returned Eugene, solemnly, “they were chosen with 
satanic shrewdness. They referred to our plans of to-day, and 


168 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


signified that I had anticipated the time for our marriage. 
Ah ! well I know what happened ; and well I know why 
Laura made no resistance ! At ten o’clock she extinguished 
all the lights in her parlor save one ; and as soon as this sig- 
nal had been given, four men, whose faces were concealed, en- 
tered the house. One of them was a priest, two were witnesses, 
and the fourth — 0 God ! that fourth one ! Who was he I 
know not ; but I shall learn — alas ! too soon. Without a 
word (for such had been our agreement) he took her hand, and 
the priest read the marriage ceremony. When the names had 
been signed, he raised my Laura in his arms, bore her through 
the postern to a carriage, and, O God ! O God ! tore her from 
me forever ! ” 

“ But how come you to know these particulars, who knew 
not even of her flight ? ” 

“ Duchess, it was to have taken place to-night, and I was 
to have been that bridegroom. We were overheard, and those 
accursed words, ‘ not to-morrow, but to-night,’ were sent in 
my name. She thought to give me her dear hand, while I — 
I—” 

He could not proceed. He gave one loud soh, and burst 
into tears. Those tears, bitter though they were, saved his 
Reason. 

The duchess, too, wept profusely. “ Poor prince ! ” said 
she, “ well may you mourn, for you have lost an angel of 
goodness and — ” 

“ No ! ” interrupted Eugene, fiercely. “ Say not that she is 
lost to me ! I must find her, for she is mine, — and I must find 
her ravisher. Great God of heaven ! ” cried he, raising his 
clasped hands, “where shall I find the robber that has so 
cruelly despoiled us both ? ” 

“ Stay ! ” cried the duchess. “ I know of a man that was 
her suitor, and whose suit was countenanced by her father and 
her brother. She told me of it herself, and, to avoid their 
persecutions, took refuge with me.” 

“ His name, his name, I implore you, his name ! ” 

“The Venetian ambassador, the Marquis de Strozzi.” 

“ I thank your highness,” replied Eugene, approaching the 
door. 


THE DISAPPOINTMENT. 


169 


“ Whither do you go ? ” 

“To seek the Venetian ambassador.” 

“ And compromise Laura ? You do not know that things 
transpired as you imagine. She may merely have been re- 
moved by her father, to part her from yourself. And suppose 
the marquis was no party to her flight ? You would make her 
ridiculous— nay, more ; you would sully her name, so that 
every gossip in Paris would fall upon your Laura’s reputation, 
and leave not a shred of it w T herewith to protect her from the 
world’s contempt.” 

Eugene wiped off the great drops of sweat that beaded his 
pallid brow. “You are right,” said he. “She must not be 
compromised — no, not even if I died of grief for her loss : 
there are other means — I will go to her father.” 

Elizabeth nodded her head approvingly. “ Yes — that you 
can do. You may confide her secret to her father. Take the 
same carriage that brought you hither, and, to make sure of 
obtaining speedy admission to Louvois’ presence, announce 
yourself as my envoy.” 

“ I thank your highness,” replied Eugene, and, inclining 
his head, he moved toward the door. The duchess followed 
him, and, taking his hand affectionately, pressed it within her 
own. 

“ I see that you love my darling as she deserves to be loved, 
and you would have made her happy. Forgive my injustice 
and my hard words. I was so wretched that I knew not the 
import of my accusations.” 

“ 1 do not remember them,” returned Eugene, sadly. “ But 
one thing fills my heart — the thought of my Laura’s loss. 
Farewell, dear lady. Now, to question Louvois ! ” 


12 


170 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FOES. 

Great was the astonishment of the household of Louvois, 
when, hastening' to do honor to the liveries of the royal house 
of Orleans, they saw emerging from the coach Prince Eugene 
of Savoy. 

“Announce me to Monsieur Louvois,” said he. 

The message passed from vestibule to corridor, from corri- 
dor to staircase, and finally reached the antechamber of the 
minister’s private cabinet. In a short while, the answer was 
forthcoming. 

“His excellency begged to decline the visit of his high- 
ness the Prince of Savoy. He was particularly engaged.” 

“ He is at home,” replied the prince ; “ then I shall cer- 
tainly alight, for I must and will see him.” 

So he entered the house, and traversed the vestibule. The 
lackeys made no effort to stop him, for he looked dangerous ; 
but they were certainly astounded at his boldness, who forced 
himself into the presence of the minister, when he had de- 
clined the proffered visit. 

Eugene, disregarding their amazed looks, asked the way to 
the cabinet, and no one ventured to refuse. So he was passed 
from lackey to lackey, until he reached the antechamber. 

Here,” said the servant that had accompanied him, “ here 
your highness will find a person to announce you.” 

Eugene bowed his head, and entered. The “ person ” was 
certainly within ; hut in lieu of announcing the prince, he 
stared at him in speechless astonishment. 

Eugene paid no attention to him, but moved toward the 
door leading to the prime minister’s cabinet. When the valet 
saw this, he flew across the room to stop the intruder, and, 
placing himself directly in his way, he bowed and said, “ Par- 
don me, your highness. You must have been misinformed. 
His excellency regrets that he cannot receive your highness’s 
visit to-day. He is particularly engaged.” 

“I have no visit to make to his excellency,” replied the 


THE FOES. 


171 


prince without embarrassment. “ I am the envoy of her royal 
highness the Duchess of Orleans. Announce me as such.” 

The valet soon returned, and, holding up the portiere so as 
to admit Eugene, he said, “ His excellency will receive the en- 
voy of her royal highness the Duchess of Orleans.” 

Louvois was standing near a writing-table, from which he 
appeared at that moment to have risen. His right hand rested 
on a book, and he stood stiff and erect, awaiting an inclina- 
tion from Eugene, to bend his head in return. But the prince 
advanced so proudly that Louvois involuntarily made a step 
toward him, and then recollecting himself, stood still and 
frowned visibly. 

“ You came under false colors to claim an audience from 
me, prince,” said he. “ As you found (indeed, you should have 
known) that I would not receive you in your own name, you 
borrowed that of her royal highness ; taking advantage of 
the respect due madame, to force yourself into my presence. 
What is your business ? ” 

“ In supposing that I have used her royal highness’s name 
to force myself upon you, you are mistaken,” replied Eugene, 
calmly. “ If you will take the trouble to look out of yonder 
window, you will see that I came hither in her highness’s own 
coach.” 

Louvois stepped to the window, looked out, and, affecting 
astonishment, exclaimed, “ True enough ; there are the royal 
liveries, and you have told the truth. You really must excuse 
me.” 

“ I do excuse you ; for I do not consider that one bearing 
the name of Louvois is in a position to affront me by doubting 
my word.” 

“ Lucky for you,” returned Louvois, with his sinister laugh; 
“ for there is not likely to be much harmony between the two 
families. And now to business. What message do you bear 
from madame ? ” 

“ Her royal highness informs Monsieur de Louvois that 
on yesterday night, the Marchioness de Bonaletta disappeared 
from her pavilion in the Palais Royal. As Monsieur de Lou- 
vois is well posted in all that takes place in or about Paris, her 
royal highness is convinced that he is no stranger to this oc- 


172 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


currence, and she requires that her lady of the bedchamber be 
returned to her, or she be directed where to find her.” 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Louvois, after a pause. 

“ That is all that I have to say for the Duchess of Or- 
leans .” 

“ You are so very emphatic that I infer you have something” 
else to say, after all. Am I right ? ” 

“ You are.” 

“ Well, you may speak. But first, allow me to ask how you 
happen to be her highness’s messenger ? Was it by way of 
sympathizing with the Marchioness de Bonaletta, that you took 
service with her mistress ? ” 

“ My lord prime minister,” returned Eugene, proudly, “ I 
serve myself and the requirements of my honor only.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! And does this respectable lady pay you 
well ? ” 

“ She bestows upon me wherewith to pay those who ven- 
ture to attack her name.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! Then you must have heavy payments to make, 
not for yourself only, but for your mother.” 

Eugene clinched his fist, and made a motion toward his 
cruel enemy, but Louvois calmly raised his hand. 

“ Peace, young man,” said he ; “ the hour for reckoning has 
not arrived. I respect, in you, the representative of madame, 
and you shall depart from my house uninjured, to-day. Take 
advantage, then, of your opportunity ; say all that you have 
to say, and spare yourself the trouble of sending me your peti- 
tions by writing.” 

“ I have no petitions to make to you, oral or written. I 
came hither to claim for her royal mistress the Marchioness de 
Bonaletta, your daughter.” 

“And I repeat my question. How came you to be the 
chosen ambassador of her royal highness, on this strictly pri- 
vate affair between herself and me ? ” 

“ I was chosen,” replied Eugene, breathing hard and grow- 
ing pale, “ because I love the marchioness.” 

Louvois laughed aloud. “ You love my daughter, do you ? 

I admire the sagacity which directs your love toward the 
daughter of the prime minister of France, and the richest 


THE FOES. 


173 


heiress within its boundaries. I congratulate you upon your 
choice.” 

“ Yes,” repeated Eugene, “I love her, although she is your 
daughter. And so dearly do I love her that, for her dear sake, 
I submit to be affronted by my mother’s traducer, because that 
traducer is the father of my Laura. As regards your absurd 
insinuations respecting her wealth, they pass by me as the ‘ idle 
wind which I respect not.’ And now, that I have satisfied 
your curiosity, be so good as to answer me. The Duchess of 
Orleans wishes to know where is her lady of the bedchamber : 
Eugene of Savoy demands his bride.” 

“ Demands his bride ? This is too presuming ! But I must 
be patient with the representative of madame. Know, then, 
ambitious manikin, that, with a father’s right to save his mis- 
guided child from your artifices and from the ridicule of the 
world, I rescued her from ruin last night, and, to secure her 
honor, gave her in marriage to an honorable man.” 

Eugene was as overwhelmed with this intelligence as though 
he had not foreseen it from the first. His wail was so piteous 
that Louvois himself felt its terrible significance, and started. 

“You forced — forced her to give her hand to another?” 
gasped he. 

“ Forced ! I perceived no reluctance on my daughter’s side, 
to her marriage. She spoke a willing and distinct assent to 
the priest’s interrogatory. I ought to know, who myself was 
one of her witnesses.” 

“ That merely proves that she was deceived by the lying 
note that you forged in my name. How, in the sight of God, 
can a father so betray his own child ! ” 

“ It was sent with my approbation, but written by Barbe- 
sieur, as a slight token of acknowledgment for your cowardly 
attack on him at the Pre aux Clercs. Your mother was right, 
it appears, when a few weeks ago she told me that no sympathy 
could exist between her race and mine ; and that every at- 
tempt at love between us was sure to end in hate. Quite Aght 
she was, quite right. And now, Prince of Savoy, your mis- 
sion is fulfilled. Tell the Duchess of Orleans that her lady of 
the bedchamber is secure, but cannot return to her service : 
she is under the protection of her husband.” 


174 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I will tell her,” replied Eugene. “ I will tell her that all 
honor, all humanity, all justice, forgetting, a father has cruelly 
betrayed his own daughter, and has cursed her life forever. 
Your wicked action has broken the hearts of two of God’s 
creatures, and has consigned them to a misery that can only 
end with death. I say not, ‘ May God forgive you.’ No ! may 
God avenge my Laura’s wrongs, and may he choose Eugene 
of Savoy as the instrument of His wrath ! for every pang that 
rends the heart of my beloved, and for every throe that racks 
my own, you shall answer to me, proud minister of France : 
and, as there lives a God in heaven, you shall regret one day 
that you rejected me for your son-in-law.” 

Without another word or look toward Louvois, be left the 
room, and returned to his carriage. When he re-entered the 
cabinet of madame, his ghastly face, the very incarnation of 
woe, told its own story. 

“ You bring me evil tidings,” said she, mournfully. “ My 
darling is lost to us both ! ” 

“ Alas, my prophetic heart ! She is married ! ” was his cry 
of despair. 

“ Poor Laura ! poor Eugene ! ” sobbed the duchess, unable 
to restrain her tears. 

“ If you weep, what shall I do ? ” asked Eugene. “ Why do 
you take it so much to heart ? ” 

“ Why ? ” exclaimed she. “ Because I am no longer young, 
and I have lost my last hope of happiness. You, at least, have 
life and the world before you.” 

“ And I,” said he, languidly — “ I am young, and have a life- 
time wherein to suffer. The world is before me ! Yes ; but it 
is a waste, without tree or flower. With scorched eyes and 
blistered feet, I must tread its burning sands alone. Forgive 
me, dear lady, if I ask permission to go. If I stay much longer, 
my aching head will burst.” 

“ You are wan as a spectre, my poor Eugene,” returned the 
duchess, laying her hand upon his arm. and looking him com- 
passionately in the face. 

“ And, in truth, I am but the corpse of the living man of 
yesterday,” sighed he. “ Let me go home, that I may bury my- 
self and my dead hopes together.” 


THE REPULSE. 


175 


The duchess rang for her gentleman in waiting, and re- 
quested him to accompany the prince to his carriage, and 
thence to the Hotel de Soissons ; but Eugene gently refused 
the proffered escort, and begged to be allowed to depart alone. 
He turned away, and as the duchess watched his receding 
figure, she saw him reel from side to side, like a man intoxi- 
cated. 

At last he was at home. He had strength left to alight, to 
ascend the long marble staircase, whose balustrade was now 
hidden by a thicket of climbing jessamines, and to enter the 
autechamber leading to the apartments of state. 

Monsieur Louis, with the elite of his workmen, was deco- 
rating its walls with hangings of white satin, looped with gar- 
lands suspended from the bills of cooing doves. When he 
beheld the prince, he came triumphantly forward. 

“ See, your highness, this is but the vestibule of the temple ! 
When you will have seen its interior, you will confess that it 
is worthy the abode of the loveliest bride that ever graced its 
princely halls.” 

Eugene neither interrupted nor answered him. He raised 
his large, mournful eyes to the festooned roses, the gilded 
doves, the snowy, shimmering satin, and to his fading senses 
they seemed gradually to darken into cypress-wreaths and 
funereal palls. He pressed his hand upon his bursting heart, 
and fell insensible to the floor. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE REPULSE. 

Eight weeks had passed away since the disappearance of 
the Marchioness de Bonaletta — eight weeks of suffering and 
delirium for Eugene of Savoy. A nervous fever had ensued, 
which, if it had well-nigh proved mortal, had proved, in one 
sense, beneficent ; for it had stricken him with unconscious- 
ness of woe. Blissful dreams of love hovered about his couch, 
and lit up with feverish brilliancy his pallid countenance. At 


176 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


such times she seemed to sit beside him ; for he smiled, held 
out his hand, and addressed her in words of burning love and 
ecstasy. Perhaps these joyful phantasms gave him strength to 
recuperate from his terrible prostration, for he recovered ; and, 
after four weeks of struggle between life and death, was de- 
clared convalescent. His grandmother and his sisters had 
nursed him tenderly throughout, and they had the satisfaction 
of hearing from his physician, that to their loving care he 
owed his restoration to health. The poor sufferer himself 
could not find it in his heart to be grateful for the boon. With 
returning reason came awakening anguish, sharp as the first 
keen stroke that had laid low the beautiful fabric of his ephem- 
eral happiness. 

But he was resolved to face his sorrow — not to fly from it. 
“ It shall kill me or make a man of me, whom no shaft of ad- 
versity can ever wound again,” thought he. He confided his 
troubles to no one, little dreaming that his secret was known 
not only to his grandmother and his sisters, but to the Princes 
de Conti, who, throughout their long watches by his bedside, 
had heard the history of his love, its return by the beloved 
one, and its disastrous end. But each and all respected the 
secret, and tacitly agreed to cover it with a veil of profound 
silence. 

So Eugene suffered and struggled alone, until the tempest 
of his grief had passed, and light once more dawned upon his 
soul. His dreamy eyes, in whose depths one visionary object 
had been mirrored, now rested upon things with quick and 
apprehensive intelligence ; his ears, that had been pained 
with one monotonous dirge of woe, now opened to the sounds 
of the outer world around ; and his thoughts, which hitherto 
had kept unceasing plaint for their buried love, now shook 
off repining, and hearkened to the trumpet-call of ambition. 

One morning he called Conrad, who (accustomed of late to 
see his master reclining languidly on a sofa, seemingly inter- 
ested in nothing) was quite surprised to find him in the ar- 
senal, busily engaged in examining and cleaning his arms. 

Conrad could not repress a smile, and a glance of mingled 
astonishment and delight. Eugene saw it, and replied at once. 

“ You see,” said he, gently, “ that I am better, Conrad. I 


THE REPULSE. 


177 


was very slow to recover from my severe illness, but I believe 
that I am quite sound again. I thank you for all your self- 
sacrificing devotion to me, during that season of suffering ; 
and never while my heart beats will I forget it. Let me press 
your friendly hand within my own, for well I know that 
your highest reward is to be found in my esteem and affec- 
tion.” 

Conrad grasped the hand that was so kindly proffered, and 
tears of joy fell upon its pale, attenuated fingers. 

“ My dear lord,” sobbed he, “ how you have suffered ! and 
oh, how gladly I would have suffered for you ! ” 

“ I believe it, good, true heart ; but let us try to forget the 
past, and make ready for the future. First — tell me whether 
the letter you took for me yesterday is likely to reach the cabi- 
net of his majesty.” 

“Yes, your highness,” replied Conrad, with a happy smile. 
“ My cousin Lolo washes the plate at the Louvre, and is en- 
gaged to be married to the king’s second valet. I gave it to 
her, and charged her, ^ she valued her salvation, to see that 
Leblond remitted it.” 

“ So far, so well, then. Order my state-carriage, livery, 
and outriders ; and then return to assist me in dressing. I 
must go to court in half an hour.” 

While Eugene was preparing to visit the king, his majesty 
with his prime minister was in his cabinet, writing ; while, 
not too far to be out of reach of his majesty’s admiring eyes, 
sat the demure De Maintenon, profoundly engaged in tapestry- 
work. The conference over, Louis signed to Louvois to gather 
up the papers to which the royal signature had been attached, 
and to take his leave. Louvois hastened to obey ; put his 
portfolio under his arm, and was about to retire, when the 
king bade him remain. 

“ Apropos,” said he, “ I was about to forget a trifle that may 
as well be attended to. I have received a letter from Prince 
Eugene of Savoy. There is a vacancy in the dragoons, and 
the little prince asks for it. Metliinks it can be granted.” 

Louvois smiled. “ What, your majesty ! Give a captaincy 
of dragoons to that poor little weakling ? Why, he would not 
survive one single campaign.” As he uttered these careless 


Ifg PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 

words, he glanced at the marquise, who understood him at 
once. 

“ In truth,” observed she, in her soft, musical voice, whose 
melody was as bewitching as that of the sea-maids of Sicily 
“ in truth, poor Prince Eugene seems as unsuited to the career 
of a soldier as to that of an ecclesiastic. The dissipated and 
debauched life which, in imitation of his mother, he has led 
since his boyhood, has exhausted his energies. He is pre- 
maturely old — older far than your majesty.” 

A complacent smile flitted over the features of the vain 
monarch. “He certainly looked more dead than alive the 
last time we saw him, and since then he has been very ill, has 
he not ? ” 

“ Yes,” replied Louvois, carelessly, “ and for a long time 
his recovery was considered doubtful.” 

“ Madame told me of it,” resumed the king. “ She seems 
very much interested in the little prince.” 

“ Madame is the impersonation of goodness,” observed De 
Maintenon, “ and by her very innocence is unfitted to judge of 
character. The old Princess de Carignan imposed upon her 
credulity with some story of an unhappy attachment, while 
veritably his illness is nothing more than the natural conse- 
quence of his excesses.” 

Louvois thanked his coadjutor with a second glance, and 
the marquise acknowledged the compliment by a slight incli- 
nation of her head, imperceptible to the king. 

“ Be all this as it may,” replied the latter, “ I cannot refuse 
so paltry a favor to the nephew of Cardinal Mazarin. If we 
do no more, we ought at least to throw him a bone to 
gnaw.” * 

“ Sire,” said Louvois, hastily, “ you do not know Prince Eu- 
gene. He is a dangerous man, though a weakly one, for he 
is possessed of insatiable ambition. He desires renown at any 
price.” 

“ At any price 1 ” repeated Louis, with a shrug. “ Such a 
poor devil as that covet renown at any price ! ” 

“ Sire ! ” exclaimed Louvois, earnestly, “ he is an offshoot 

* Louis’ own words. — “ M4moires de Jeanne d’Albret de Luynes,” vol. i., 
p. 85. 


THE REPULSE. 179 

of the ambitious house of Savoy, and a stranger besides. 
Strangers always bring us ill-luck.” 

“You are right,” interposed the marquise, with a sigh. 
“Strangers never bring us any but ill-luck.” 

Louis turned and fixed his eyes upon her. Their glances 
met, and there was such unequivocal love expressed in that of 
the pious marquise, that her royal disciple blushed with grati- 
fication. He went up to her and extended both his hands. 

She took them passionately within her own, and covered 
them with kisses. Then raising her eyes pleadingly to his, she 
whispered, “ Sire, he is the son of his mother ; and if your ma- 
jesty show him favor, I shall think that you have not ceased 
to love the Countess de Soissons, and my heart will break.” 

Louis was so touched by the charming jealousy uncon- 
sciously betrayed by these words, that he whispered in return : 

“ I will prove, then, that I love nobody but yourself.” 

“ Be so good,” added he aloud to Louvois, “ as to say to the 
usher that the Prince of Savoy will have an audience.” 

This being equivalent to a dismission, Louvois backed out 
of his master’s presence, and retired. As he was passing 
through the antechamber, congratulating himself upon hav- 
ing effectually muzzled his adversary, the minister saw his 
pale, serious face at the door. Eugene was in the act of desir- 
ing the usher to announce him. 

“ His majesty awaits the Prince of Savoy,” said Louvois, 
and he stepped aside to allow him entrance. 

Eugene came in, and the door was closed. The two enemies 
were alone, face to face ; and they surveyed each other as two 
lions might do on the eve of a deathly contest. 

“ It has pleased you to make an attempt to beg a commis- 
sion in the army, and to address yourself directly to the 
king,” said Louvois, after a pause. “ And you presumed to 
do so without the intervention of his majesty’s minister of 
war.” 0 

“I have no business with the servants of his majesty,” 
replied Eugene, tranquilly. “ If I have a request to make, I 
address it to the king my kinsman, and require no influence 
of his subordinates.” 

“ Sir ! ” exclaimed Louvois, angrily, “ I counsel you—” 


180 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I desire no counsel from a man whom I despise,” inter- 
rupted Eugene. 

“ You shall give me satisfaction for this word,” returned 
Louvois, laying his hand on his sword. “ You are a noble- 
man, and therefore — ” 

“And therefore,” interrupted Eugene again, “you shall 
have no satisfaction from me, for you are not a nobleman, 
and I shall not measure swords with you. Peace, monsieur,” 
continued he, as Louvois was about to insult him, “ we are in 
the antechamber of the king, and a servant may not resent his 
grievances within earshot of his master. Take care that you 
become not too obstreperous, lest 1 publish to the world the 
story of your crimes toward your unhappy daughter. And 
now let me pass : the king awaits me.” 

With these words Eugene crossed the antechamber, and 
stood near the door that led to the king’s cabinet. There he 
stopped, and, addressing the indignant minister — 

“ Now, sir,” said he, imperatively, “ you can go out to the 
vestibule and send the usher to announce me to his majesty.” 

Louvois made a rush at the prince, and almost shrieked 
with rage. “ Sir, this insolence — ” 

But at that moment the door of the king’s cabinet opened, 
and the voice of Louis asked, “Who presumes to speak so 
loud?” His angry glances were launched first at one and 
then at the other offender, and, as neither made any reply, his 
majesty resumed : 

“ Ah, you are there, little abbe ? You asked for an audi- 
ence : it is granted.” 

He returned to his cabinet, Eugene following. The mar- 
quise was assiduously occupied with her tapestry, but her large 
eyes were raised for one glance ; then, as quickly casting them 
down, she appeared to be absorbed in her embroidery. 

The king threw himself carelessly back in an arm-chair, 
and signed to Eugene to advance. 

“ You would like to command a company of dragoons ? ” 
said Louis, shortly. 

“ Such is my desire, your majesty. I wish to become a sol- 
dier ; I hope — a brave one.” 

Louis surveyed him with scorn. “I cannot grant your 


THE REPULSE. 181 

request,” said he. “ You are too sickly to enter my serv- 
ice.” 

He then rose from his chair and turned his back. This of 
course signified that the audience was at an end ; but, to his 
unspeakable astonishment, he felt the touch of a hand upon 
his arm, and, turning round, beheld Eugene ! 

“ Is that all your majesty has to say to me ? ” said the 
prince. 

“ That is all,” cried Louis, imperiously. “ The audience is 
at an end — begone ! ” 

“Not yet,” replied Eugene, “not yet.” 

Madame de Maintenon uttered a cry of horror, and her 
tapestry fell from her hands. 

“ Do you know that you are a traitor ? ” exclaimed the 
king. 

“ No, sire. I am but a man who, driven to despair, can no 
longer withhold the cry of a heart wrung by every species of 
contumely and injustice. Were I tamely to submit to all that 
you have done to wound me, I were a hound unfit to bear the 
name of nobleman. By the memory of Cardinal Mazarin, 
your benefactor, nay, more, the spouse of your mother, I claim 
the right to remonstrate with your majesty, and to ask you to 
reverse your decision.” 

“ You have summoned to your aid a name which I have 
ever cherished and honored,” replied Louis. “ For his sake I 
grant you fifteen minutes’ audience. Be quick, then, and say 
what you will at once.” 

“ Then, sire, may I ask if you remember the solemn promise 
you made to the cardinal on his death-bed ? ” 

“Ido.” 

“ To the man who, during your minority, transformed a 
distracted country into a powerful and peaceful empire, you 
promised friendship and protection for his kindred. But how 
has this promise been fulfilled ? The family of Mazarin have, 
one and all, been given over to persecution and injustice, and 
that by a sovereign who — ” 

“ Prince,” cried Louis, “ you forget that you address your 
king ! ” 

“ My king ! when has your conduct ever been to me that 


182 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of a king, and therefore of a father ? I know that my uncle 
was once king of the King of France ; and by the God above 
us ! he was a gracious monarch, for he left to his successor a 
prosperous kingdom and an overflowing treasury ! ” 

“ Which was not fuller than his own private purse,” re- 
torted Louis. 

“ The cardinal named you his heir, sire — why did you not 
accept the heritage ? ” 

“ Because I would not enrich myself at the expense of his 
family,” replied Louis, haughtily. 

“ Because you knew very well that what you affected to 
relinquish, that the world might admire your magnanimity, 
you intended to take back by piecemeal. And to do this, you 
have persecuted the unhappy family of your best friend with 
an ingenuity of malice that is beneath the dignity not only of 
your station, but of your manhood ! ” 

“ Sire,” cried Madame de Maintenon, hastening to the king, 
“ I beseech you, drive from your presence this insolent mad- 
man.” 

“Let him speak,” said Louis, in a voice of suppressed rage. 
“I wish to see how far he will carry his presumption.” 

“ Sire, it reaches past your crown, as far as the judgment- 
seat of God, where it stands as your accuser. Sire, what have 
we done to merit your aversion ? My mother — that you al- 
lowed your minions to traduce and drive her into exile ? My 
father — who fought and bled for you, that you offered him 
public insult, and so wounded his proud spirit, that he died 
from the effects of your cruelty ? My sisters— that you have 
robbed them of their patrimony ! And I ! — what have I done 
that you should hold me up to the mockery of your court, and 
deny me the paltry boon of a petty commission in your army ? 
I had forgiven your public affronts, so unworthy of a king 
and a gentleman ; and I had offered my hand and sword to 
your majesty as proofs of my loyalty and superiority to resent- 
ment. As a kinsman and your subject you have repulsed me : 
for the future, know me as an alien and enemy.” 

The king laughed scornfully. “ Puny braggart, what care 
I for your enmity ? ” 

“ Time will show, sire ; and, as truly as a lion once owed 


THE REPULSE. 


183 


his life to a mouse, your majesty will repent of your injustice 
to me.” 

“ I never repent,” returned the king, hastily. 

“ A day of repentance must come for all who have sinned, 
and it must dawn for you. Beware lest it come so late that 
the prayers of yonder sanctimonious marquise avail you noth- 
ing.” 

“ By heavens ! ” cried the king, starting from his seat and 
clutching his bell, “ my patience is exhausted. This arch-trai- 
tor shall — ” 

But Madame de Maintenon was at his side in a moment. 
“ Sire,” said she, beseechingly, “ in the name of the love and 
loyalty I bear my sovereign, pardon this misguided youth. 
Remember that the highest prerogative of power is the exer- 
cise of mercy. I, for my part, forgive him freely, and I thank 
God that I am here to mediate between him and your majesty’s 
just anger.” 

“ You are an angel,” cried Louis, clasping her hand in his 
own, and covering them with kisses. “You are an angel 
whom God has sent for my happiness in this world and the 
next.” And turning to Eugene with a lofty gesture, he said : 
“ Go, young man. Madame de Maintenon’s magnanimity has 
earned your pardon. Go — that I may forget you and your 
existence.” 

“Sire,” replied Eugene with emphasis, “I do not intend 
that you shall forget me. In your pride of power, you have 
likened yourself to a god, hut, great as you are, you shall rue 
the day on w T hich Eugene of Savoy turned his back upon your 
kingdom ! ” 

“So you persist in believing yourself to he a man, do 
you ? ” 

“Yes, sire ; such is my conviction. I aim at renown, and, 
in spite of my enemies, of my poverty, and of my friendless 
condition, I have strength and energy to attain it. I am no 
longer a subject of France. I hid farewell to my country for- 
ever.” 

With a slight inclination of his head, and without waiting 
for permission, he turned his back, and left the room. 

Louis gazed upon his receding figure, with an expression 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


isi 

so strange, that Madame de Maintenon in great alarm flew to 
liis side. His eyes were fixed, and great drops of sweat stood 
out upon his forehead. The marquise wiped them away with 
her handkerchief, all the while whispering words of tender 
encouragement. 

Louis shivered, and seemed like one awakening from a 
dream. His eyelids fell, the strained eyeballs moved, and he 
tried to smile. 

“ Dearest friend,” said he, “ I know not what has happened ; 
but, as the Prince of Savoy disappeared from my sight, a voice 
seemed to speak to my soul, and say that his threats had been 
prophetic, and that I would dearly rue the day on which the 
nephew of Mazarin had left me in anger. Can such things 
be ? or am I the sport of — ” 

“ Sire, sovereign, beloved,” cried the marquise, kneeling 
and clasping his knees in her arms, “ give no heed to this 
mocking voice. ’Tis but a temptation of the Evil One. Let 
us pray together.” 

“Yes, let us pray. Send for Pere la Chaise, and let us 
away to the chapel.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE FAREWELL. 

Prince Eugene, meanwhile, was on his way to visit the 
Duchess of Orleans. She met him with unaffected cordiality, 
and gave him a hearty welcome. 

“ Indeed,” said she, extending both her hands, “ I am re- 
joiced to see you again. I made you many a visit of inquiry 
during your illness ; and it pained me deeply to hear from 
your grandmother that no effort of those who love you had so 
far prevailed upon you to leave your room. I am glad to see 
that your heart is returning to us, for you know that I am 
foremost in the rank of your friends.” 

“ I know it, gracious lady,” said Eugene, .feelingly, “ and for 
that reason I am here.” 

“And although you are pale, you are looking well. You 


THE FAREWELL. 


185 


have a brave spirit, Eugene, and have met your sorrow like a 
man.” 

“Yes. Suffering has made a man of me, and he that has 
received its chrism with courage has overcome grief. I have 
come to give your highness a proof of my fortitude. I” — 
but he paused, and his face grew of a deadly pallor, while a 
convulsive sigh was upheaved from his bosom. 

“ Speak, poor boy,” said the duchess, compassionately. 

“ I wanted to ask if your highness has news from the Mar- 
chioness de Bonaletta ? ” resumed he, with an effort. 

“ Yes,” replied the duchess, mournfully. 

“ Has she written to you ? ” was the hurried rejoinder. 

The duchess shook her head. “ She has not, and thereby I 
judge that she is closely watched. For, if my darling were 
free to do so, she would long ago have poured her sorrows into 
my heart. Sometimes I feel her soft arms twining about my 
neck, and hear her voice, as, in the simplicity of her trust, she 
said to me one day : 1 Pray for me, that I may nev^r love, for 
if I should, I would forsake every thing for the man of my 
choice — even yourself, my best friend.’ ” 

“ She spoke thus ? ” cried Eugene, brightening. 

“ She did ; and, not long after, she glided up to me, and, 
giving me a kiss, said : ‘ I have found him, I have found him 
— him whom I shall love throughout all eternity.’ ‘ Gracious 
Heavens ! ’ I exclaimed, ‘ it is not Prince Eugene ! ’ whereupon 
she kissed me again, and said, ‘ But it is he ; and I shall love 
him forever ! ’ ” 

“ Ah ! I thought I had been stronger ! ” murmured Eugene, 
his eyes filling with tears. “ I had armed myself against mis- 
fortune, but the memory of her love unmans me.” 

“ Poor Eugene ! I have been thoughtlessly cruel : forgive 
me, for you are the first one to whom I have dared, as yet, to 
mention her name. Let me not probe your wounds further, 
but tell you at once what I know. I have heard from Laura 
through the medium of her father only. The day after her 
shameful immolation, he communicated bis daughter’s mar- 
riage to the king ; ; and, the evening after, gave a grand ball in 
honor of the event. He excused her absence, and the secrecy 
attending her wedding, by saying that her betrothed having 
13 


186 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


been suddenly summoned away, be had yielded to the solicita- 
tion of the lovers, and had consented to have them married 
without formality/’ 

“ Liar and deceiver ! ” cried Eugene, gnashing his teeth. 

“ *Ay, indeed, liar and deceiver ! ” echoed the duchess. 
“ And I had to sit there, and hear him congratulated ; and lis- 
ten to the flattering comments of his guests, every one of 
whom knew that not a word of truth was being spoken on 
either side. Of course I had no choice whether to absent my- 
self or not ; I was ordered to appear, and to confirm the lie. 
And once or twice, when my face unconsciously expressed my 
indignation, my husband was at hand to remind me that my 
lady of the bedchamber had married with my consent and 
approbation ! The day after, Louvois distributed largesses 
among his household, and bestowed princely sums upon the 
poor, all in honor of the happy event ! For a whole week I 
could neither eat nor sleep for grief and anger. I can never 
recover from this blow. If you had robbed me of Laura, I 
could have forgotten my own loss hi her gain ; but to know 
that she is chained to the galley of an unhappy marriage 
almost breaks my heart ! ” 

“ She is not chained to that galley,” said Eugene; “ the oath 
she took was not to the man whom the world calls her hus- 
band— it was pledged to me. But do not fear that I will lay 
claim to her, duchess. Far be it from me to take one step that 
could endanger her safety, or unsettle her convictions. If she 
considers the oath binding which she took to one man, suppos- 
ing him to be another, I will bear my fate with resignation ; 
but if she scorns the lie that calls her his wife, she will find 
means to let me know it ; and, let her summons come when it 
may, I shall be ready to obey it. Let her heart seek mine, and 
I will take care that renown shall tell her where to find 
me.” 

“ I feared as much,” said the duchess. . “ I knew that you 
would not remain at this false, corrupt Tsourt. Whither do 
you travel ? ” 

“ I shall follow my brother. Your highness knows that he 
was banished for having married the girl whom he loved, 
whose only fault was her obscure birth. He is in the service 


THE FAREWELL. 337 

of the Emperor of Austria ; and, if his imperial majesty will 
accept of me, I, too, will join the Austrian army.” 

“ And you will live to replace the lost myrtles of your love 
with the laurels of fame.” 

“ God grant that you may be a true prophetess ! And now, 
your highness, I have one more favor to ask. May I visit the 
room in which I saw her last ? ” 

“Come. We can take a turn in the park, and enter the 
pavilion as if by accident. Every thing is just as she left it.” 

Accompanied by two maids of honor, and followed at a 
distance by two lackeys, they descended to the gardens. For 
a time they confined their stroll to the principal walks ; but 
w T hen they had reached the pathway that led to the pavilion, 
the duchess, turning to her maids of honor, requested them to 
await her.at the intersection of the avenues, and continued her 
way with the prince. Not a word was spoken on either side 
until they had ascended the steps leading to the room where, 
in one short hour, Eugene had seen the birth and death of his 
ephemeral happiness. 

He opened the door ; then, standing on the threshold, gazed 
mournfully around him. Not an object in the room was miss- 
ing. There, in the embrasure of the window, stood her harp ; 
there, on the table, lay her books and drawings ; and there, 
alas ! hung the silver chandelier whose solitary light was to 
have guided him to his bridal. Every thing was there, as be- 
fore, and yet nothing remained, for she, who had been the soul 
of the habitation, had left it forever ! 

And now, as his wandering gaze rested upon the arm-chair 
where, kneeling at her feet, he had received the intoxicating 
confession of her love, he started forward, and, burying his 
face in its cushions, wept aloud. 

The duchess, meanwhile, had remained outside on the per- 
ron. She would not invade the sanctity of Eugene’s grief by 
her presence, for she felt that, in a moment of such supreme 
agony, the soul would be alone with its Maker. 

Presently she heard the door open and Eugene joined her 
on the balcony. For a while he looked at her in silence ; then 
his lips began to move, and she caught these words, uttered al- 
most inaudibly : 


188 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


‘ £ I am about to go. W ill you grant me one more request ? ” 
“ Yes — what is it ? ” 

“ You told me that, when she confided to you her love for 
me, she put her arms around your neck, and kissed you. May 
I have that kiss from your lips, dear duchess ? ” 

Instead of a reply, Elizabeth embraced the poor youth. 
“ God bless you, Eugene ! ” said she, fondly. “ Go forth into 
the world to fight the battle of life, and win it.” 


CHAPTER V. 

A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 

The year 1683 was full of significance for Austria. It was 
a period of victory and defeat, of triumph and humiliation. 
Austria’s wounds were many and dangerous, but her cure was 
rapid. In the spring of this momentous year she was threat- 
ened simultaneously from the East and the West, and she had 
every reason to fear that she would be similarly assailed from 
her northern and southern frontiers. 

Her troubles originated, as they had often done before, 
with Hungary — that land of haughty Magyars and enthusias- 
tic patriots. Leopold I. ascended the throne in 1658, and from 
that time forward every year of his reign had been marked by 
intestine wars. Sometimes, by force of numbers, the rebellious 
Hungarians were, for a time, held in subjection ; but the fire 
of patriotism, though smothered, was never extinguished in 
their hearts. Deep buried under the ashes of many a deluded 
hope, it lived on, until some friendly breath of encouragement 
fanned it to activity, and its flames leaped upward, and defied 
the emperor anew. 

Hungary would not submit to be considered as a provincial 
dependency on Austria. She claimed the constitutional rights 
guaranteed to her from time immemorial, and recorded in the 
golden bull of King Andreas. In 165T the Emperor Ferdinand 
had promised, both for himself and his successors, that this 
constitution should be held inviolate ; that all foreign troops 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 


189 


should be withdrawn from Hungary, while no Hungarians 
should be called upon to fight elsewhere than on their native 
soil ; that the crown lands were to be inalienable ; all offices 
bestowed upon native-born Hungarians ; Protestants secured 
in the exercise of their religion ; and no war undertaken, nor 
treaty concluded, with any foreign power, without the consent 
of the Hungarian Diet. 

The Emperor Leopold had promised to ratify the constitu- 
tion. But, in 1664, Austria declared war against Turkey, and 
called for money and troops from Hungary. The Magyars, 
not having been consulted as to the expediency of the war, 
refused to have any thing to do with it. With the help of 
France, peace was made with the Porte ; and, as soon as his 
foreign difficulties were settled, Leopold bethought himself of 
his turbulent Hungarians at home. Austrian troops were 
marched into Hungary, and the Protestant Magyars, in the 
enjoyment of high offices, were superseded by Catholics. 

The indignation of the Hungarians knew no bounds. They 
took up arms, and swore never to lay them down until they 
had freed their native land. The revolution broke out in 1670 ; 
and such was the fanaticism of the patriots, that their banners 
bore the cross as their emblem, and every soldier wore a cross 
upon his shoulder. By this sign they swore eternal enmity to 
the detested Austrian lancers ; and, however they might be 
outnumbered, they hoped in God, and rushed by thousands to 
fill up the ranks whence thousands had fallen. Undaunted 
by reverses, undismayed by danger, new armies of warriors 
seemed to spring from the blood of the slain. Nor were the 
brave Hungarians without sympathy in their struggle for free- 
dom ; they had allies both powerful and efficient. 

Two of their ablest generals, Zriny and Frangipany, had 
fallen into the hands of the Austrians, and had perished igno- 
miniously on the scaffold ; and another hero, Count Tokoly, 
had fallen at the siege of Ar^. But his son survived, a boy 
who had been rescued from the enemy and conveyed to Tran- 
sylvania. There he was taught to hate the oppressors of his 
country ; and no sooner was he of an age to serve, than he en- 
tered the army. He brought with him succor from Prince 
Apafy, of Transylvania, and the promise of aid from the Porte. 


190 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Fired by tbe enthusiasm of young Emerich Tokoly, the Hun- 
garians renewed the contest with Leopold, and fortune so fa- 
vored their youthful leader, that he conquered Upper Hungary, 
marched to Presburg, drove out the Austrians, and called an 
imperial Diet to consult as to the propriety of deposing the 
Emperor Leopold from the throne of Hungary. 

But Emerich did not tarry at Presburg to attend the Diet. 
He marched on to Buda to confer with Kara Mustapha, the 
grand- vizier of Mohammed IV., on the affairs of Hungary. 
The victories of the young hero had more effect upon Mustapha 
than any amount of pleading could have done ; he was there- 
fore prepared to receive him favorably. Mustapha was am- 
bitious, covetous, and vindictive ; he had latterly felt some 
uneasiness as to the security of his own influence with the 
Sultan, and he burned to reinstate himself by gaining a victory 
or two over the Austrians. Moreover, he thought of the booty 
which would follow each victory ; and, in the hope of retriev- 
ing his defeat at St. Gotthard’s, he concluded a treaty with 
Count Emerich, w 7 hich was specially directed against Austria. 
He promised, in the Sultan’s name, arms, money, and men ; 
and, as an earnest of the friendship of his new ally, Emerich 
was declared King of Hungary. 

Under the ruined walls of the fortress of Fulek, which 
Emerich had taken from the enemy, Mustapha handed him 
the diploma of royalty which had been drawn up in Constan- 
tinople ; at the same time bestowing upon him the rank of a 
Turkish general, and presenting him with a standard and a 
horsetail. 

The newly-appointed king pledged himself, in return, to 
consider the Sultan as his lord-paramount, and to pay him a 
yearly tribute of forty thousand florins. He was so elated 
with his title, and so desirous of humiliating Austria, that, to 
free himself from the emperor, he consented to become a vas- 
sal of the Porte. He signed the treaty, whereupon Kara Mus- 
tapha rejected the proposals of alliance which Leopold was 
making, and began to dream of extending the dominion of the 
Crescent, and of founding a Moslem empire in the West, whose 
capital should be Vienna. He dismissed the Austrian ambas- 
sadors with cold indifference, and promised the Sultan that the 


$ 


A PAGE FROM HISTORY. 19 q 

green banner of the Prophet should carry terror and devasta- 
tion into the very heart of Austria. This was the danger 
which threatened the emperor from the East. He had equally 
powerful enemies in the West. Hungary had sent ambassa- 
dors to the court of Louis XIV. These ambassadors had been 
.received in Paris as the accredited envoys of an independent 
and recognized kingdom ; and King Louis, a son of the Catho- 
lic Church, had carried his hatred to Austria so far, that he 
entered into a secret alliance with the unbelieving Porte, and 
promised assistance to the Protestant rebels of Hungary. This 
assistance he sent at once in the form of money and arms. 
French officers were dispatched to Hungary, to join the insur- 
gents and discipline their soldiers. And, while Louis was se- 
cretly upholding Turkey and Hungary, he was calling councils 
at home to establish claims to a portion of the imperial domin- 
ions of Austria. 

These juridical councils were established at Metz and Bri- 
sach, and they had instructions from Louis to reannex to his 
crown all the domains which had ever been held in fief by 
any of his predecessors, however remote. They began by 
summoning the lords of the Trois-E veches to acknowledge 
their vassalage to France ; and they went on to cite before 
their tribunal the Elector Palatine, the King of Spain, and 
the King of Sweden ; all and each of whom were called upon 
to do homage to the king, or have their possessions seques- 
trated. 

All Europe was aghast at these monstrous pretensions, but 
nobody ventured to put them down, for Louis had a standing 
army of one hundred and forty thousand men, while the 
German empire, still suffering from its losses in the Thirty 
Years’ War, could scarcely put into the field one-third of this 
number. 

So that, without the drawing of a sword, Louis was suffered 
to possess himself of the important city of Strasburg, and sub- 
sequently of all Alsatia. Finally he claimed the cloister of 
Wasserburg and the province of Germersheim, and pushed his 
greed and arrogance to such a height, that Germany at last 
awakened from her lethargy, and found resolution enough to 
protest against the aggressions of this royal robber. Louis, 


192 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


in return, proposed to call a universal council at Frankfort, 
and "have his claims investigated. This was agreed to, and 
each sovereign sent his plenipotentiaries. Meanwhile the 
King of France kept possession of all the lands in dispute, and 
stationed his troops at Strasburg, and at every other town in 
Alsatia. 

Here was danger enough for the Emperor Leopold, from 
the west ; while, north and south, his horizon darkened also. 
The ambitious Victor Amadeus, seeing that Austria was en- 
compassed by enemies, now bethought himself of annexing 
Lombardy to his dominions, while there was every reason to 
fear that the bold and enterprising Peter the Great would ex- 
tend his frontiers to the Baltic Sea, and, with quite as much 
right as Louis ever bad to Strasburg, declare Dantzic to be a 
part of his Russian territories. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE EMPEROR LEOPOLD I. 

The Emperor Leopold had just returned from early mass. 
Throughout the services, and during the excellent sermon of 
his celebrated court-preacher Father Abraham, the face of his 
imperial majesty had worn a troubled aspect ; it had not even 
brightened at the appearance of the Empress Eleonora. But 
when, in his cabinet, he saw his professor of music, Herr 
Kircher, Leopold smiled, and his brow cleared at once. The 
professor was occupied in putting a new string to the emperor’s 
spinet, which the evening before had been broken by his ma- 
jesty at a concert ; and, having his back turned to the door, 
was not aware of the emperor’s entrance until the latter laid 
his hand upon Kircher’s shoulder. 

The musician would have risen, but Leopold gently forced 
him back into his seat, observing that it was unbecoming in a 
teacher to rise at the entrance of his pupil. 

“ Of his pupil, your majesty, to whom there remains noth- 
ing for a teacher to teach ; for in good sooth, if your majesty 


THE EMPEROR LEOPOLD I. 


193 


felt disposed, you are competent to fill the chair of a musical 
professorship, or to become the maestro of your own imperial 
chapel.” 

“I prefer my own position,” replied Leopold, laughing, “al- 
though there are times when the berth of an emperor is not 
an easy one. But when as at present I am here with you, 
then I am truly happy, for your conversation and music 
awaken in me pleasant thoughts and noble aspirations. Let 
me enjoy the hour, for indeed, Kircher, I need recreation.” 

The emperor sighed, and sank slowly into an arm-chair, 
where, taking off his plumed hat, he threw it wearily down 
on a tabouret close by. 

“ Has your majesty any cause for vexation ? ” asked Kircher. 

“Not for vexation, but much for sorrow,” returned Leo- 
pold. “ Let me forget it, and if you have no objection, take 
up that piece of music on the table, and give me your opinion 
of it.” 

Professor Kircher obeyed at once. “Your majesty has 
been composing, I perceive, and your composition is in strict 
accordance with the rules of counterpoint.” 

“ I have translated my sorrows into music,” returned Leo- 
pold. “ I could not sleep last night, and there was running 
through my head the words of a sad and beautiful Latin 
poem. I rose from my bed, and treading softly so as not to 
disturb the empress, I came hither, and set the poem to music. 
It gave me indescribable pleasure, and I wfish you would try 
it, that I may know whether my interpretation has meaning 
for others as well as for myself.” 

“ My voice will not do it justice, your majesty ; let me call 
Vittorio Carambini to sing it, while I accompany him.” 

“No,” returned Leopold. “Carambini’s voice would so 
beautify my composition, that I would not recognize it. I 
prefer to hear it from you. So sit you down, dear Kircher, and 
begin.” 

Kircher made no further opposition, and commenced the 
prelude. The emperor leaned back his head, and closed his 
eyes, as he was accustomed to do, when listening attentively. 
Reclining among the purple- velvet cushions of his luxurious 
arm-chair, Leopold presented a handsome picture of imperial 


194 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


comeliness. His fine figure was set off to advantage by bis 
close-fitting Spanish doublet of black velvet ; his short Span- 
ish cloak, looped up with large diamond solitaires, fell in 
graceful folds from his shoulders, gently stirring with its 
golden fringe the feathers of his hat that lay beside him. The 
pale, regular features of the emperor harmonized with the 
splendid costume which, from the days of Charles V., had 
been in fashion at the imperial court of Vienna. Leopold had 
made one modification, however, in his dress. In spite of his 
dislike to the King of France, and all things French, he wore 
the long curled wig which'Louis XIV. had brought into vogue. 

His whole attention was absorbed by Kircher, who, with a 
wig similar in fashion, but more modest in dimensions, sat 
playing and singing the “ Schmerz-Lied.” He sang with 
great feeling, and he, as well as the composer, felt the power 
and beauty of the music. 

It died away in gentle sighs, and there was a pause. Then 
the emperor in a low voice said, “ Thank you, Kircher ; you 
have given me great pleasure.” 

“ Your majesty, it is I who should thank you. Your com- 
position is a masterpiece ; and, instead of criticising my mis- 
erable performance, you praise it.” 

“ Do you really like it, then ? ” 

“ Like it ! It evinces genius, which is something more than 
a conformity to musical rules. It is a gift from Heaven, 
whence surely all musical inspiration descends. The man 
that could listen to your ‘ Schmerz-Lied ’ without emotion has 
no soul ; and, to him that could hear it with eyes undimmed, 
God has denied the gift of tears.” 

“ Kircher,” said the emperor, with a delighted smile, “ I 
thank you a thousand times for your approbation. It embold- 
ens me to confess that I felt tears in my eyes while you sang. 
To you, a musician, I may say as much ; for you know that, 
to write a song of sorrow, a man must have' known sorrow 
himself. I fear that my * Schmerz-Lied ’ will have to give 
place to embateria , and our spinet to the discordant drum.” 

“ And will it come to open war with the Porte ? ” asked 
Kircher, sadly. 

“ I fear as much,” sighed the emperor. “ Is it not singular 


THE EMPEROR LEOPOLD I. 


195 


that I, a man of peace, and lover of art, should be forever 
compelled to he at war with the world ? And is it not hard 
that a potentate should he continually forced into measures 
which he abhors, and stand before his fellow-creatures in a 
character that is not his own ? History will depict me as a 
heartless and bloodthirsty monarch, while no man has ever 
more deprecated the shedding of blood than I. My only com- 
fort is, that, if my poor subjects suffer, it is k ad majorem Dei 
gloriam.’ ” 

And Leopold, who was not only a disciple hut a lay mem- 
ber of the order of Jesuits, bent his head, and made the sign 
of the cross. 

“ Your majesty alludes to the bloodshed in Hungary ? ” 

“Yes,” said Leopold, mournfully ; “for I love those poor 
Hungarians, though they be heretics and rebels, and I long 
for the rising of the sun of peace upon their unhappy land. 
O Kircher, if we could but be at peace abroad and at home, 
how happily would our days glide by ! My court should he 
the paradise of poetry and love, the home of art, and the tem- 
ple of all wisdom and science.” 

“ Your majesty is already the patron of all the arts ; and 
artists are proud to hail you as their brother. Are you not 
both a composer of music and a performer ? Do you not rival 
Hermann, Schildbach, and Hamilton, in painting ? And did 
you not astonish Fisher von Erlach with the suggestions you 
offered him in the planning of the palace of Schonbrunn ? 
And in all your majesty’s dominions, is there a bolder horse- 
man, a more valiant sportsman, a more graceful dancer than 
yourself ? ” 

“To hear you, Kircher,” said Leopold, laughing, “one 
would suppose that you were describing the attributes of Phoe- 
bus- Apollo.” 

“ And so I am,” laughed Kircher ; “ for out of the letters of 
your majesty’s name, Leopoldus A, did not Sigismund von 
Birken compose the anagram, ‘ Deus Apollo ? ’ ” 

“ It is very easy to make anagrams by misplacing a few let- 
ters, my dear Kircher ; but to convert a poor terrene German 
emperor into a Magnus- Apollo, would require the upheaval of 
mountains by Titan hands, from now until the millennium. 


196 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


I would be content to be myself, were I regarded as a benefi- 
cent and peace-loving monarch. Consilio et Industria is the 
motto of my choice — a motto, which, though inappropriate to 
a god, is pertinent as the device of a Leopold. I would wish 
to govern with judgment, and labor industriously for the 
welfare of my people, accepting with Christian resignation 
whatever it pleases my Maker to apportion. All I ask of Provi- 
dence is some little leisure for the cultivation of my favor- 
ite art. From music I derive such indescribable enjoyment, 
that, if I could, I would die within hearing of its delicious 
melody. And, since I have said so much, Kircher, I will go 
on to request of you, that when my end draws near, you will 
attend to the fulfilment of ray wish.” 

“ A melancholy duty you assign to me, gracious sovereign,” 
sighed Kircher. “ But if I outlive you, it shall be lovingly 
performed. Let us hope, however, for Austria’s sake, that you 
will survive me by many years.” 

“ Life and death are in the hands of God,” returned Leo- 
pold, reverently. “ And now let us speak of matters less se- 
rious. Here is the score of a new opera, lately sent to me 
from Rome. It is called 4 La Principessa Fidele,’ and is com- 
posed by Scarlatti, who, as you know, is winning a great rep- 
utation.” 

“Yes,” growled Kircher, “he is winning reputation by 
tickling the ears with soft strains which convey no meaning 
to the heart.” 

“ Well, well, maestro, let us hear, before we decide,” replied 
Leopold, laughing. 

Kircher placed the score upon the desk of the spinet, and 
began to play. The emperor threw himself back again into 
his arm-chair, and, closing his eyes, listened with an expression 
of great satisfaction. 

But his pleasure was of short duration. Scarcely had 
Kircher finished the first grand aria, before the door opened, 
and the chamberlain of the day presented himself. Leopold 
frowned, and, raising his head, asked somewhat impatiently, 
“ Well, — what is it ? ” 

“ The members of your imperial majesty’s council of war 
are in the anteroom, and solicit an audience.” 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


197 


“ Ask them to assemble in the small council-chamber, and 
I will join them in a moment.” Then, turning to Kircher, the 
emperor shook his head. “ Something unusual must have hap- 
pened for the council to assemble at such an early hour. You 
see, Kircher, that in these troublous times an emperor can 
have no leisure hours ; and, however I may yearn to remain, 
X must leave you.” 

“ Shall I return to-morrow morning ? ” asked Kircher. 

“ Happy is the man who can dispose of the morrow,” sighed 
Leopold. “ It is more than an Emperor of Germany dare do. 
I must first ascertain what news my council bring me ; but, 
under any circumstances, come, Kircher ; for if I am not here, 
some distant strain of your music may reach my ear to lighten 
my cares of state.” 

Resuming his hat, the emperor left the cabinet, and joined 
his ministers in the council -chamber. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 

The president, vice-president, and three members of the 
council, awaited the entrance of the emperor. The president, 
the Margrave of Baden, stood in the embrasure of a window, 
engaged in a whispered conversation with the vice-president, 
General Count von Starhemberg. whose eyes were continually 
wandering to the spot where the Duke of Lorraine was pro- 
foundly engaged in the contemplation of a full-length por- 
trait of Charles V. Beyond, in the recess of another window, 
stood the Counts von Kinsky and Portia, conversing in low 
but earnest tones ; both from time to time glancing at the 
Duke of Lorraine with an expression of aversion which neither 
attempted to disguise from the other. 

“Do you think his majesty will bestow the chief com- 
mand upon his brother-in-law?” asked General Count 
Portia. 

“ Yes,” replied Count Kinsky, with a shrug. “ The emper- 


198 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


or is so inordinately fond of the Duke of Lorraine that he 
fancies him endowed with military genius.” 

“General,” whispered the Margrave of Baden to Count 
Starhemberg, “ I wish to say something to you in private. Can 
I rely upon your discretion ? ” 

“ Your highness does me honor,” was the reply, “and I 
promise absolute silence as regards any thing you may be 
pleased to communicate.” 

“ Then I will go to the point at once. The Duke of Lorraine 
must not have the command of the Austrian army. Do you 
sustain me ? ” 

“ Ah ! Your highness, too, hates him.” 

The margrave smiled. “ My dear general, that little word 
‘ too ’ proves that we are of one mind. Yes, I hate the Duke 
of Lorraine, not per se, nor for any evil quality that I know 
of. I hate him as one dangerous to the welfare of the state, 
and too influential with its ruler, the emperor. Though he 
has the reputation of being a great general, he longs for peace 
and retirement among his books and maps at home ; and he 
would rather submit to be humbled by foreign powers than 
declare war against their aggressions, however insolent. In 
other words, he hates bloodshed, and, if he is a soldier, he is 
one that loves the pen far more than he does the sword.” 

“ Your highness is right,” returned Count Starhemberg ; 
“ the duke is no soldier, and his appointment to the chief com- 
mand of her armies would be a misfortune for Austria. And, 
worse yet, he is so opiniated that he never will listen to ad- 
vice. ” 

“ Therefore we must work together to avert his appoint- 
ment. We need a young commander, brave, ambitious, and 
eager for renown.” 

‘ Like Prince Louis of Baden ? ” asked Von Starhemberg, 
smiling. 

“ Yes, like Prince Louis of Baden, said the margrave, em- 
phatically. “ He is quite as brave and skilful as the duke ; 
but he is modest, is willing to listen to advice, and to be guided 
by the experience of good counsellors. Instead of ruling the 
war department, he will be ruled by it, and thus w T e will have 
unanimity both in field and council. It is to your interest, 


THE COUNCIL OF WAK. 19 9 

therefore, to defeat the Duke of Lorraine, and secure the ap- 
pointment of my nephew.” 

“ Your highness can count on me ; but I am not very san- 
guine of success.” 

“ It may be easier of accomplishment than you think ; at 
all events let us make the attempt. We must represent war as 
inevitable ; and, having given an account of the formidable 
preparations making by the enemy, we must counterbalance it 
all by a glowing exposition of our own strength and resources. 
This will arouse the duke’s spirit of opposition, and he will 
forthwith discourse on the horrors of war. I will take advan- 
tage of his disinclination to fight, to suggest that, with such 
sentiments, he had better not aspire to command our armies. 
In your quality of vice-president you come forward to sustain 
my — Chut ! Here comes the emperor.” 

All the members of the council bowed low, except the Duke 
of Lorraine, who, having his hack to the door, had not per- 
ceived the entrance of the emperor. Leopold crossed the room, 
and the thickness of the carpet so muffled his footfall that he 
had his hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder before the latter 
had become aware of his presence. 

“ What are you thinking of ? ” asked he, with an affable 
smile. “ You appear to he absorbed in admiration of our great 
ancestor.” 

“ Yes, your majesty,” replied the duke. “ I was admiring 
the beauty of his noble countenance, and thinking of the pride 
you must feel when you remember that you are his descend- 
ant, and that his blood flows in your veins.” 

Leopold bent his head in token of assent. “ You are right ; 
I am proud of my descent. Such an ancestry as mine should 
inspire a man to noble deeds ; and if I encourage pride of 
birth in my subjects, it is because I believe it to be an incentive 
to virtue and honor. Remembering, then, with mingled gratu- 
lation and humility, that we are the posterity of Charles V., 
let us determine to-day to act in a manner worthy of our great 
progenitor ; for, by your haste to assemble here this morning, 
I judge that we have weighty matters to discuss. Be seated, 
and let us proceed to business.” 

So saying, the emperor glided into his arm-chair, which 


200 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


stood behind a semicircular table, immediately under the por- 
trait of Charles V., and his five counsellors occupied the tab- 
ourets around. 

“ And now, my lords,” exclaimed Leopold, “ let me hear 
what it is that brings you hither at an hour so unusual.” 

“ Dispatches from General Count Caprara, your majesty,” 
replied the Margrave Herman of Baden. 

“ And from France and Poland, likewise,” added the Duke 
of Lorraine. 

“ Let us hear from General Caprara. We sent him to Tur- 
key to make a last effort at pacification. Our propositions, 
through him, were such as must have proved to the Porte our 
earnest longing for peace. Why did the general not present 
his dispatches in person ? ” 

“ Your majesty, it is out of his power to do so,” was the 
reply. “ Your majesty’s proposals were haughtily rejected, 
and, in their stead, conditions were made which the general 
could not accept. The grand-vizier was so incensed, that he 
arrested your envoy, and forced him to accompany the Turkish 
embassy back to Constantinople. He then marched his army 
to our frontiers, carrying along your majesty’s legation as 
prisoners of war. At Belgrade one of the secretaries managed 
to make his escape, and to conceal on his person the letters and 
documents of the general, which he has ridden day and night 
to deliver into your majesty’s hands.” 

“ What is the purport of these documents ?” said Leopold, 
who had listened with perfect calmness to this extraordinary 
recital. 

“ First, your majesty, they contain an account of the gen- 
eral’s peace negotiations. They were all rejected, and the 
grand-vizier has refused to renew the truce which has just 
expired. He requires new conditions.” 

“ Name them,” said Leopold. 

The margrave drew from his portfolio a document, and be- 
gan to read. 

“ Austria shall pay yearly tribute to the Porte. She shall 
raze every fortress she has erected on the Turkish frontier. 
She shall recognize Count Tokoly as King of Hungary. She 
shall deliver to him the island of Schutt, the fortress of Co- 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


201 


morn, and all other strongholds in Hungary, and place him 
on an equal footing with the “Prince of Transylvania.” 

“ Which means neither more nor less than a declaration of 
war,” cried the emperor ; “ and General Caprara would have 
been a traitor had he listened to such insulting proposals. My 
patience with this arrogant Moslem is exhausted, and further 
forbearance would be a disgrace. We have no alternative : 
we must go to war, trusting in God to defend the right. Our 
cause is a holy one ; and perhaps, with the blessing of Heaven, 
it may be granted us to drive the infidel from Europe forever. 
Go on, margrave. What other news have you ? ” 

“ Important information, your majesty, as to the strength 
of the enemy’s forces. The Sultan, at Belgrade, reviewed an 
army of two hundred thousand men, all fully equipped, and 
anxious to retrieve their losses at St. Gotthard. They have 
carried their fanaticism to such an extent that they talk of 
planting the Crescent where the Cross now looms from the 
towers of St. Stephen’s in Vienna. Kara Mustapha himself 
told General Caprara that, in a few weeks from now, a Sultan 
of the West would seat himself on the throne of the Emperors 
of Germany.” 

“ God will punish his blasphemous boasting,” returned 
Leopold. “ God will not suffer the Christian to perish before 
the might of the Paynim. The die is cast for war, for war ! 
At least, such is my conviction ; but if any one here be of op- 
posite mind, let him speak boldly. Freedom of speech in this 
chamber is not only his right, but his solemn duty.” 

“ War ! war ! ” echoed the councillors, four of them vocifer- 
ously, the Duke of Lorraine deliberately, and so slowly, that 
his voice came as an echo of the words that were spoken by 
his colleagues. 

The emperor was a little surprised. “Your highness is 
then of our opinion ? ” asked he. 

“ I am, your majesty. War is inevitable, and we must 
risk our meagre forces against the two hundred thousand men 
of the Sultan.” 

“ True, we are not so numerous as the enemy,” observed the 
Margrave of Baden, “ but our men are as well equipped and as 
enthusiastic as those of the Porte, and, under the leadership 
14 


202 


PRINCE EUGENE AND II IS TIMES. 


of such a hero as the Duke of Lorraine, we are certain of 
victory.” 

The duke shook his head. “ The greatest general that ever 
led an army into battle cannot hope for victory, when, to 
forces immensely superior to his own, he opposes troops 
neither well armed nor well provided.” 

“ Happily,” replied the margrave, “ this is not the case with 
our men. Without counting the auxiliaries that will be fur- 
nished by the princes of the empire, we shall oppose a hun- 
dred thousand men to the Turks. Moreover, we have been 
preparing for war, and for several months have taken meas- 
ures to arm our troops and provision them for a campaign.” 

“ Permit me to dispute your last assertion,” replied the 
duke, whose mild countenance kindled, and whose soft eyes 
began to glow. “It is my duty to speak the truth to his 
majesty, and I shall do it fearlessly. No, my liege, we have 
not a hundred thousand men, and our soldiers are ill equipped 
and ill provided. As regards the auxiliaries of the princes of 
the German empire, your majesty knows that their deputies 
have been in Frankfort for months without having yet held 
one single council to deliberate on the expediency of sending 
or not sending re-enforcements to our army. I grieve to say 
so, but the truth must be spoken. We have an insignificant 
army, which, of itself, is inadequate to repel the Turkish 
hordes ; and, should they march to Vienna, our capital must 
fall, for I regret to say that no measures have been taken for 
its defence. There are but ten guns on the bastions ; the 
trenches are so dry that they can be crossed by foot-passengers, 
and the garrison consists of our ordinary city guard, and one 
thousand troops of the line. For Vienna to withstand a siege 
in this defenceless condition is impossible ; and, should the 
Turks be allowed to march hither, your majesty would have 
to surrender.” 

“ Your majesty,” interrupted Count Starhemberg, vehe- 
mently, “ leave to me the defence of Vienna, and I swear that, 
sooner than deliver your capital to the Turks, I will perish 
under its ruins.” 

“ And I,” added the margrave, “ solemnly adjure your ma- 
jesty not to confide the chief command of your forces to the 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


203 


Duke of Lorraine, for it is evident that he does not desire so 
perilous an appointment. His highness has no confidence in 
our ability to prosecute the war successfully ; and no general 
can lead his soldiers to victory who beforehand is convinced 
that they are destined to suffer defeat.” 

“ No general can lead his soldiers to victory who refuses to 
contemplate the possibilities of defeat,” exclaimed the Duke of 
Lorraine, whose handsome face began to show traces of anger. 
“ To estimate his strength at its real value, he must at least 
learn something of the size and condition of his army. It is 
the duty of a commander-in-chief to see with his own eyes, 
and decide from his own observation ; for him, the men and 
stores that are exhibited to view on the green cloth of a table 
within the walls of a council-chamber have no significance 
whatever.” 

“ Does your highness accuse me of an intention to deceive 
his majesty ? ” cried the margrave, haughtily. “ Do you — ” 

“ Peace, gentlemen, peace ! ” interrupted the emperor. 
“We are here to war with the stranger, not with our own flesh 
and blood. Every man present shall speak his mind without 
censure from his colleagues ; and he w T ho prevaricates is no true 
subject of mine. You are all free to discuss our difficulties ; it 
remains for me to decide in what manner they shall be met. 
I beg to recall this fact to Count Starhemherg, who unsolicited 
has offered to take upon himself the defence of Vienna. My 
heartfelt thanks are due to the Duke of Lorraine for his frank 
exposition of our disabilities ; he is now, as ever, the cham- 
pion of truth and right. Has the Margrave of Baden any 
further dispatches to lay before us ? ” 

“ No, your majesty,” answered the margrave, pale with 
anger. 

“ Then let us have those of his highness of Lorraine,” re- 
turned Leopold, with an affectionate glance at his brother-in- 
law. 

“ I have couriers, your majesty, from Count von Mansfeld 
and from Count von Waldstein.” 

“ Let us hear the news from Paris first,” replied Leopold, 
slightly frowning. “ Let us hear from our hereditary foe, 
who, under pretence of coming to our rescue, pillages our 


2(M 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


property while the house is on fire. We know full well that 
this fair-spoken Louis is in secret league with our foes at home 
and abroad, and we confess that when he invited us to he 
sponsor to his grandson, we accepted the honor with an ill 
grace. By-the-by, has the young dauphin been baptized ? ” 

“ Yes, your majesty, and Count von Mansfeld was your im- 
perial majesty’s proxy. After the ceremony the king held a 
long and gracious conversation with your majesty’s represent- 
ative, in which he expressed his great sympathy with your 
majesty, and requested Count Mansfeld to say that he remem- 
bered you night and morning in his prayers.” 

“The King of France will deceive neither the Lord of 
heaven nor His servant the ruler of Austria, with his prayers,” 
exclaimed Leopold, with some show of warmth. “ He merely 
means to say that he intends to give us nothing more substan- 
tial. Would he but content himself with cold neutrality, we 
would be willing to accept his prayers instead of his works. 
But while he prays for us, he gives aid and comfort to our 
enemies, who are less our enemies than such a sanctimonious 
friend. But, enough of the King of France ! To such an of- 
fensive message I have no answer to return.” 

“ Count von Mansfeld left Paris at once, your majesty, and 
proceeded to Spain to urge the claims of his imperial highness, 
the Archduke Charles, to the Spanish succession.” 

“ Now let us hear from Count von Waldstein and Warsaw.” 

“ Count von Waldstein was received with distinguished con- 
sideration. The King of Poland, at least, is your imperial 
majesty’s friend. You remember that his wife is a French 
woman ? ” 

“Yes,” replied Leopold, shaking his head, “and a woman 
whose birth is not illustrious enough for her station. ” 

“She is, nevertheless, Queen of Poland, my liege, and is 
recognized as such by the Poles. When the grandson of 
the King of France was born, he purposely sent notification 
of the event to the King of Poland, ignoring in his dispatches 
the queen. This omission of a courtesy, customary among 
royal heads, offended the queen ; and to her resentment we 
are to attribute the gracious reception given to our ambassa- 
dor. My liege, our alliance with Poland is a fixed fact. A 


THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 


205 


treaty has been concluded, by which John Sobiesky pledges 
himself to sustain Austria against Turkey, furnishing at once 
forty thousand men who are ready for action as soon as 
needed.” 

u To what are we pledged in return for this ? ” asked Leopold. 

“ Merely to furnish on our part sixty thousand men, and to 
consult with his majesty as to our operations.” 

“ To consult with him ! ” repeated the emperor. “ This 
looks as though he expected to take part in our plans for the 
prosecution of this war, instead of recognizing us as com- 
mander-in-chief. ” 

“ To exact such recognition from him would be unseemly,” 
replied the duke. “ The King of Poland is a great captain as 
well as a crowned head ; and it would ill become us to dictate 
to a warrior, from whom we should all regard it as a privilege 
to receive advice. Moreover, as a crowned head, John Sobi- 
esky is entitled to the first rank in the field as well as in the 
cabinet.” 

“ He is nothing more than an elected ruler,” observed Leo- 
pold, with a shrug. “ For want of a better alliance, I must 
content myself with that of John Sobiesky ; but I put the 
question to you — suppose he were to come to Vienna, how 
should I receive or entertain an elected king ? ” 

“ With open arms, if he come to deliver us from our foes,”* 
was the prompt reply. “ Welcome are all who visit us as true 
friends, but doubly welcome those who come in time of need. 
The King of Poland has been the first prince to respond to our 
offers of alliance, the first to co-operate with us in our struggle 
with the infidel.” 

“ But he will not be the last,” interposed the Margrave of 
Baden. “ I, too, have good news for you, my liege. The Elect- 
or of Bavaria, to whom I wrote for aid in your majesty’s ap- 
proaching troubles, has promised not only a considerable body 
of troops, but offers to command them in person. The Elector 
of Saxony, too, I think, will co-operate with us. The council of 
the states of the German empire also are in session at Frank- 
fort, to consult as to the expediency of joining your majesty’s 
standard.” 

* The duke’s own words— See Armath, “ Prince Eugene of Savoy,” vol. i. 


206 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ And before the electors equip their men, and the council 
make up their mind, the Turks will have marched to Vienna, 
unless we make a junction with the King of Poland and inter- 
cept them on their way. Each day of delay increases the peril, 
for they are already on this side of Belgrade. Unless we can 
oppose them now, we are lost, and all Bavaria, Saxony, and 
the states of the empire, cannot avert our doom.” 

“Then, in God’s name, let us act at once,” cried the emper- 
or, rising from his seat. “ President of the war department, 
let your troops be in readiness to march, and see that our men 
are equipped and provisioned.” 

“ Your majesty’s commands shall be obeyed.” 

u Duke of Lorraine,” continued Leopold, “ I appoint you to 
the chief command of my forces. Go forth, and, with the 
blessing of God, do battle for Christendom and Germany.” 

“I accept, your majesty,” returned the duke, solemnly 
bending his head. “ Victory is in the hands of Almighty 
God ; but bravery, loyalty, and struggle unto death, I promise, 
on behalf of your majesty’s army.” 

“ Count Rudiger von Starhemberg,” resumed the emperor, 
“ your petition is granted. To you I commit the defence of 
my capital.” 

“Thanks, your majesty,” exclaimed Von Starhemberg fer- 
vently. “ I will defend it with the last drop of my blood ; 
and if Vienna fall into the hands of the infidel, he shall find 
nothing left of her stateliness, save a heap of ruins and the 
lifeless bodies of her defenders.” 

“ To you, Counts Portia and Kinsky, I commit the direction 
of the war department, in conjunction with your colleague, 
the Margrave of Baden. Let couriers be dispatched to all the 
European courts with information of our declaration of war 
against the Porte. Let it be announced to the world that, for 
the good of Christendom, Leopold has grasped the sword ; 
and, in this new crusade, may he confound the unbelieving 
Turk, and glorify the standard of the Christian, in the name 
of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. And may 
the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of Christ, vouchsafe her pro- 
tection and her prayers ! ” 


THE PLAINS OF KITSEE. 


207 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE PLAINS OF KITSEE. 

On the first of May, 1683, the Emperor Leopold reviewed 
his troops on the plains of Kitsee, not far from Presburg. To 
this review, all who had promised to sustain Austria were in- 
vited. Her appeals had at last roused the German princes to 
action ; hut they had been so dilatory in their councils, that 
not one of them was prepared for war. 

The army assembled on the plains of Kitsee was not nu- 
merous. There were thirty-three thousand men in all, who, 
with their faded uniforms and defective weapons, made no 
great show. 

The emperor, as he emerged from his tent, looked dis- 
couraged. Sternly he rode forth on his richly-caparisoned 
gray horse, and, when his men greeted him with en- 
thusiastic shouts, he bowed his head in silence, and sighed 
heavily. 

He turned to Charles of Lorraine, who rode a few paces be- 
hind him, and said : 

“Come hither, Carl.” The duke obeyed at once, and at 
one bound was at the emperor’s side. “ Tell me, Carl,” said 
he, anxiously, “ how many infantry are there here ? ” 

“ Twenty-two thousand, your majesty.” 

“ And cavalry ? ” 

“Twelve thousand mounted troops.” 

“ About what may be the strength of the enemy ? ” 

“Your majesty, our scouts report that the combined forces 
of Turkey and Hungary amount to more than two hundred 
thousand.” 

Leopold raised his eyes to the calm, self-possessed face of 
his brother-in-law. “ You say that, as quietly as if it were a 
pleasant piece of news ; and yet metliinks we are in a critical 
position.” 

“ Your majesty, I have known this for so long a time that 
I am accustomed to contemplate it with equanimity. Before 
our decision was made, I was timid and irresolute ; but since 


208 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the die is cast, I am bold and self-reliant, for I know that I 
will either conquer or die.” 

“You think success then a possibility! With thirty -three 
thousand men, you hope to repulse two hundred thousand ? ” 

“The King of Poland adds forty thousand to our number, 
the Electors of Bavaria and Saxony are making preparations 
to re-enforce us, and the other princes of Germany will soon 
follow their example. The Moslem has put out all his strength 
for one decisive blow ; the longer we avoid an engagement the 
weaker he grows ; while time to us brings accession of num- 
bers, and lessens his chance for reaching Vienna.” 

The emperor shook his head. “That you are a hero, Carl, 
I confess : this hour proves you one. But I cannot share your 
hopefulness. When I look around me at all these men, and 
think that they are death-doomed, my heart grows faint, and 
my eyes dim.” 

“ Do not think so much of the number of your troops, sire; 
look at their countenances. See those stern, resolute faces, 
and those fiery eyes. Every man of them chafes to march 
against the infidel — ” 

“ Hurrah for our emperor ! ” cried out a lusty voice, close 
by. “ Hurrah for our general, Charles of Lorraine ! ” 

“ Ah, Christopher 111, are you there ? ” cried the duke, cor- 
dially. 

“ Yes, your highness,” replied the cuirassier, while his 
horse stepped a few paces in front of the ranks. “Yes, your 
highness, I am here to fight the infidel with a will as good as 
I had at St. Gotthard’s twenty years ago. That was a glorious 
day ; and I thank God that I am alive to see your highness 
win another victory as great over the insolent Turk.” 

“You think, then, that we will be victorious, Christo- 
pher ? ” 

“ Ay, indeed, your highness, for God is with us.” 

“Bravely spoken,” said the emperor, gazing with visible 
satisfaction at the wrinkled face and snow-white beard of the 
old cuirassier. 

The Duke of Lorraine signed to him to advance. “ Your 
majesty,” said he to Leopold, “ allow me to present one of your 
bravest soldiers, Christopher 111. In all the army there is not 


THE TLAINS OF KITSEE. 


209 


a man as old as his youngest son, and I venture to say that he 
is the oldest man in Europe under arms.” 

“ That is a broad assertion,” replied Leopold. “ How old 
may you be, Christopher 111 ? ” 

“ Last Thursday I was a hundred and nine years old, please 
your imperial majesty,” said Christopher, bowing to his sad- 
dle-bow. 

u A hundred and nine years old ! ” cried Leopold, incredu- 
lously. u Nay — that is impossible. No man of that age could 
sit a horse or carry a sword as you do.” 

“ Your majesty, it is said in Holy Writ, that, when our fore- 
fathers were five hundred years old, they were young and 
lusty ; and I can assure my emperor, that when once I am on 
my horse, with my sabre in hand, I will fight with the best lad 
of twenty years. I mount rather stiffly, because of a wound I 
received at Leipsic when we had the ill-luck to be defeated by 
Gustavus Adolphus.” 

“ Why, man, do you mean to say that fifty -two years ago 
you were in the army ? ” 

“ Yes, sire ; and there I received the wound from which I 
still suffer to-day. The battle of Leipsic was far from being 
my first : it may have been the twentieth, but I am not quite 
sure. When first I entered the service, I used to mark our 
battles with a red cross when we were victorious, and a black 
one when we were unfortunate ; but, after I had been in the 
army for twenty years, I stopped. There were too many fights 
to record.” 

“ But you can remember your first battle, can you not ? ” 

“ Certainly, sire. I began, as I am likely to end, by fight- 
ing the Porte ; and we defeated him then, as we assuredly in- 
tend to do now.” 

When was it ? ” asked Leopold, with interest. 

“ Eighty years ago, sire, when the Hungarians and Turks 
made war upon the Emperor Eudolph the Second. Yes, even 
then, the dogs were after Vienna, and those mutinous Hunga- 
rians were giving trouble to your majesty’s forefathers. The 
Emperor Mathias, who succeeded his brother, made a treaty 
with them for twenty years, for we had as much on our hands 
as we could manage, with the rebels of Bohemia. They rose 


210 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


again and again under the three Ferdinands, but we brought 
them down at last. I have served under six emperors, and all 
have vanquished their enemies, even as my last gracious 
sovereign Leopold shall do. Long live our Leopold, the con- 
queror of the Turks ! ” 

“ Long live our Leopold ! ” shouted the cuirassiers, delight- 
ed with the condescension of the emperor to Christopher. 
The shout was taken up by the other troops, until it resounded 
like rolling thunder along the plains of Kitsee. 

The emperor greeted his army with something like a re- 
flection of their enthusiasm, and then returned to Christopher. 

“ Christopher,” said he, “ you have served under six em- 
perors, and have done more than your duty toward Austria. 
I give you your discharge, for he who has worked faithfully 
all day has a right to rest when night sets in. I appoint you 
castellan of my palace at Innspruck ; and, in addition to your 
salary, bestow upon you a pension of four hundred florins.” 

. “ Thank your majesty, but indeed I cannot go,” replied the 
old man, resolutely. “I hardly think the Turkish hounds 
will ever get as far as Innspruck, so I must e’en go forward 
with the army to fight them wherever they are to be met. My 
night has not yet set in, sire.” 

“ What ! ” cried Leopold, laughing, “ you refuse ? ” 

“ Yes, your majesty. I crave neither pension nor sinecure. 
I intend to follow the army, and, if God calls me hence, then 
I shall be willing to rest ; but before I go I hope to mow 
down a few Turks’ heads to take to St. Peter, for him to use as 
balls when he plays ninepins. But, if your imperial majesty 
will grant it, you might do me a favor.” 

“ What is it, my brave cuirassier ? tell me.” 

“ Your majesty, will you allow me to present my sons, 
grandsons, great-grandsons, and great-great-grandsons ? They 
are all in my regiment.” 

“ The Eleventh Cuirassiers of Herberstein, your majesty,” 
added the Duke of Lorraine. 

“ Ah,” cried the emperor, in a voice intended to be heard by 
all the men, “ that is an old and renowned regiment. Were 
you in it, Christopher, when it was commanded by the great 
Dam pierre in 1619 ? ” 


THE PLAINS OF KITSEE. 


211 


“Yes, your majesty, I was the first man enrolled. I was 
there when the regiment rescued the Emperor Ferdinand from 
a body of insurgents, who had surrounded his imperial palace, 
and were trying to compel him to abdicate. Just as they 
were forcing the gates, the trumpets of Dampierre sounded an 
alarm, and the emperor was saved. The cuirassiers galloped 
into the midst of the insurgents, and dispersed them like so 
many cats.” 

“ And to reward their loyalty and opportune aid,” cried the 
emperor, “ Ferdinand conferred upon the Eleventh Cuirassiers 
the privilege of riding through Vienna, trumpet sounding and 
colors flying, and of pitching their tents on the Burgplatz.” * 

“Hurrah ! Hurrah ! The emperor knows our history,” 
shouted Christopher 111. 

“ Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ” echoed the regiment, and once more 
through the plains of Kitsee rang the jubilant cry, “Long live 
Leopold ! Long live our emperor ! ” 

“ And now,” said the emperor, when the shouts had died 
away, “now let me see your children, my brave veteran. — 
Baron Dupin,” added Leopold, addressing himself to the colo- 
nel of the regiment, “ will you permit them to step out of their 
ranks ?” 

Baron Dupin bowed, and, riding to the front with drawn 
sword, he called out: “All the descendants of Christopher 
III— forward ! ” 

There was a general movement among the cuirassiers, and 
fifty-four men rode up, and clustered around their common 
ancestor. There were bronzed faces with white beards— 
others with gray ; there were men in the prime of life, and 
others in the flower ; there were youths approaching man- 
hood, and lads that had scarcely emerged from childhood ; but 
from peeping bud to fruit that was about to fall, they one and 
all resembled their parent stem ; every mother’s son of them 
had Christopher Ill’s aquiline nose, and large, sparkling eyes. 

“Your majesty perceives,” said the old man, looking 
proudly around him, “ that if I have sabred many a Turk’s 

* This is historical, and in 1819, on the two hundredth anniversary of the 
rescue, the privilege was extended to the present time— See Austrian Plu- 
tarch. 


212 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


head, I have replaced each one by that of a Christian ; so that 
I owe nothing to humanity for the damage my sword has 
done. — Now, hoys, cry out, ‘ Long live the emperor ! ’ ” 

So the hoys, young and old, echoed the shout ; the regi- 
ment took it up, and for the third time Leopold’s heart was 
cheered by the enthusiastic affection of the army. 

“Well, Christopher,” said he, gayly, “although you reject 
my pension for yourself, you will not, I hope, reject it for 
your sons. Let it be divided between them, and long may 
you live to see them enjoy it ! ” 

With these words, the emperor raised his hat, and waving 
it in token of adieu, he returned to his tent, far happier than 
he had left it some hours before. 

“ Carl,” said he to the Duke of Lorraine, “ I thank you for 
presenting Christopher 111 to my notice. That old man’s 
spirit is catching, and I feel the pleasant infection. I recog- 
nize the might of bravery, and it seems as if my small army 
had doubled its numbers. This veteran, w T ho in his person 
unites the history of six of my predecessors, has taught me 
that individuals are nothing in the sight of God. Six em- 
perors have succumbed to the immutable law T s of Nature, but 
the house of Hapsburg is still erect. What, then, if I meet 
with reverses ? The Lord has given me a son, who, if I should 
be unfortunate, will prop up our dynasty, and avenge his 
father’s misfortunes.” 

“We will try to leave him none to avenge, sire. Your 
men are full of loyalty, and God will preserve your majesty’s 
life until your son is fit to be your successor.” 

“ His holy will be done ! ” said Leopold, crossing himself ; 
then, having given orders for an advance upon the fortress of 
Neuhausel, he changed his dress preparatory to starting for 
Vienna. 

He had just been equipped in his black travelling-suit when 
Prince Louis of Baden entered the tent, followed by a young 
man whose simple costume presented a striking contrast to 
the magnificence of the uniforms around. He wore a brown 
coat buttoned up to the throat, leaving visible merely the ends 
of his cravat of costly Venetian lace. Ruffles of the same en- 
circled his white hands, which, it was easy to see, had never 


THE PLAINS OF KITSEE. 


213 


been hardened by work, or browned by the snn. His face, 
though youthful, bore traces of thought and suffering ; and 
his bearing was self-possessed, although every eye was upon 
him. 

k ‘ Whom bring you hither ? ” inquired Leopold, with a 
smile. 

“ Your majesty, I bring nothing but a young Savoyard : 
nevertheless I predict that, one of these days, he will be one 
of the great generals of the world.”* 

“ I am not so presumptuous as to expect that I will ever 
rival Prince Louis of Baden or Charles of Lorraine,” said Eu- 
gene. “ All I have to ask of your majesty is the favor of be- 
ing allowed to serve under them.” 

There was a pause. Everybody looked in amazement at 
the bold being who, all court etiquette disregarding, had ven- 
tured to address the emperor without being spoken to by his 
majesty ; but he was perfectly unconscious of his blunder. 
He looked so frank, so modest, and yet so unembarrassed, that 
the emperor was disarmed, and a smile flickered over his pleas- 
ant face. 

“ I see that he is a stranger,” was Leopold’s deprecatory re- 
mark. “ Present him, your highness, that I may welcome 
him to Austria.” 

The prince, taking the young man by the hand, led him 
up to the emperor. 

“ Sire, I have the honor to present you my kinsman, Prince 
Eugene of Savoy. He has come to Austria to join his brother, 
and, like him, to serve under the Austrian flag.” 

“Prince Eugene of Savoy, you are welcome to Austria,” 
said Leopold, graciously. 

Eugene answered the salutation by a low bow, and then 
calmly raised his head. But Prince Louis of Baden whispered 
in his ear, “ The Spanish genuflection — quick ! bend the 
knee ! ” 

Eugene looked surprised, for he had not understood the 
warning. But the emperor had overheard, and came once 
more to the rescue. 

* The Margrave of Baden’s own words. — See Armath, “ Prince Eugene,” 
vol. i., p. 23. 


214 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“Never mind the Spanish genuflection,” interposed he, 
with a good-natured laugh. “ The prince is not my subject ; 
he has been educated in France, where people know little or 
nothing of the customs and usages of our court.” 

But scarcely were the words out of Leopold’s mouth before 
Eugene had approached his arm-chair, and had fallen on one 
knee. 

“Sire,” said he, in his soft, melodious voice, whose tones 
went straight to the emperor’s heart, “allow me to consider 
myself as your subject, and to render you homage according 
to the usages of your majesty’s court. It is my misfortune to 
have been educated in France, and thereby to have lost twenty 
years of my life.” 

“Why lost?” inquired Leopold. “What was wanting in 
France to make you happy ? ” 

“ Every thing, sire ! ” cried Eugene, warmly. “ And the 
only thing I did not want was thrust upon me.” 

“ What was that ? ” 

“ The tonsure, sire. I begged the King of France for an in- 
significant commission in his army ; I was scornfully repulsed. 
And now that I have shaken the dust of his dominions from 
my feet, I never wish to return thither unless — ” 

“Well,” said the emperor, as Eugene paused. “Finish 
your sentence. 4 Unless ’ — ” 

Eugene raised his magnificent eyes until they met those of 
the emperor. Then, in a calm voice, he continued : 

“Unless I could do so as his majesty’s victorious enemy.” * 

“ Your majesty sees that he is the stuff of which heroes are 
made,” observed Louis of Baden. 

“You do not love France ?” said Leopold. 

“Sire, my family and I have suffered persecution at the 
hands of the French monarch, and I yearn for satisfaction. 
Your majesty sees how unfit I am to be a priest, for I cannot 
love my enemies, nor do good to those who despitefully use 
me.” 

“ Let us hope that you will learn this lesson later. Mean- 
while you seem more fitted for the career of a soldier than the 
vocation of a churchman. Your appearance here reminds me 
* Eugene’s own words. — See Rene, “ Mazarin’s Nieces.” 


THE PLAINS OF KITSEE. 


215 


of my own youth. I, too, was destined for the priesthood, and 
wore the garb of an abbe. I was a younger son, and nothing 
but an appendage to royalty. But it pleased God of His serv- 
ant to make a sovereign, and to send as His messenger, death. 
My brother Ferdinand, the hope of Austria, died, and I stepped 
forth from my insignificance to become the heir to a mighty 
empire. Your brother Louis has frequently mentioned you to 
me, and from him I learned that at the French court you were 
known as ‘ the little abbe ! ’ If of me, who was once a novice. 
Almighty God has made an emperor — of you, little abbe, He 
may make a great warrior ! ” 

“ Sire, my fate is in His hands ; but all that lies in my own, 
I will do to serve your majesty as your loyal subject, hoping 
to follow from afar in the footsteps of the distinguished models 
before me.” At the same time, Eugene bowed low to the Duke 
of Lorraine. 

“ Will you take him as your pupil ? ” asked Leopold of his 
brother-in-law. “No one in Austria can teach him better how 
to win laurels.” 

“ With your majesty’s permission, I accept the task,” re- 
plied the duke. “ But he must expect to find me a hard mas- 
ter, and, as my pupil in war, to have little leisure for aught 
else.” 

“ You see,” said Leopold, gayly, “ what a miserable lot you 
have chosen for yourself. You have fallen from Scylla into 
Chary bdis, my poor youth.” 

“ I have my Ulysses, your majesty, in his highness of Lor- 
raine. I give myself up to his sage guidance.” 

“ If Prince Eugene is as ready with his sword as with his 
tongue, my enemies will have to look out, methinks,” cried 
Leopold. “ So take him along, Duke of Lorraine, and of the 
little abbe of the King of France make a great captain for the 
Emperor of Austria.” 

“With your majesty’s permission, I will confer upon him 
the rank of colonel, and the first vacancy that occurs. Until 
then, prince, you can accompany me as a volunteer.” 

“ As a volunteer for life, your highness,” replied Eugene ; 
“ and, although I have already to thank his majesty for much 
gracious encouragement, I feel more grateful to him for plac- 


216 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ing me under your highness’s orders, than for any other of the 
favors he has so kindly bestowed upon me to-day.” 

“ I am glad to know it,” returned the emperor. “ Follow 
your leader, then, my young friend ; and gee that, although 
you have relinquished the priesthood, you hold fast to Chris- 
tianity. We part for a time, hut we shall meet again before 
long. Let us hope that it may be to give thanks to God for 
victory and peace.” 

The emperor then rose, and, followed by his officers, left 
the tent. His carriage stood without, and in a few T moments, 
amid the respectful greetings of his staff, and the hurrahs of 
the army, he disappeared from the plains of Kitsee. 

The Duke of Lorraine signed to Eugene to follow him. 
Laying his hand gently upon the prince’s shoulder, he said : 
“ Young man, you have requested me to be your instructor, 
and I have accepted the office, for you please me, and my 
heart inclines toward you. Let me then begin at once. I 
wish to give you some advice.” 

“ I am all attention, your highness.” 

‘‘Weigh well your words, before you give them utterance. 
You will find enemies in the Austrian ranks, as well as in 
those of the Turkish army. You have already gained a few ; 
and by-and-by, if you are not careful, you will have as many 
as myself.” 

“What can I have done, your highness, during the half 
hour I have spent in his majesty’s tent, to provoke enmity 
from the strangers around me ? That you should have ene- 
mies, I comprehend ; for distinction always calls forth envy. 
But I, an unknown youth ! who could envy me ? ” 

“ Those w T ho saw how graciously you were welcomed by 
the Emperor of Austria. But that is not all. You have of- 
fended your kinsman, Louis of Baden. It was he who present- 
ed you to the king. He is a brave and distinguished officer, 
and deserved all the compliments you bestowed upon me. Be- 
lieve me, if you know your own interest, you will select him 
for your model and master in the art of war. He will be flat- 
tered at your preference, and will serve you efficiently. His 
friendship is worth having.” 

“ I love Louis of Baden from my heart,” said Eugene ; “and, 


THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 217 

after your highness, he has the first place in my consideration 
and esteem.” 

“ After me, say you ? Give him the first place, and he will 
procure you rapid advancement. For myself, I am unpopu- 
lar, and if you love or respect me, do so in secret. You will 
not long have been an Austrian officer before you make the 
discovery that it is not politic to praise Charles of Lorraine.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 

War had begun. Kara Mustapha advanced into Austria, 
looking neither to the right nor the left, marching onward, 
onward to Vienna. Such obstacles as he encountered on his 
way he removed by the might and strength of his forces, as 
an elephant lifts his ponderous foot to crush a pigmy lying in 
his path. His march was through burning villages and devas- 
tated fields ; the glare of his torch illumined the sky, the blood 
of his victims reddened the earth. Austria’s desponding hopes 
were concentrated upon the Duke of Lorraine ; for the King 
of Poland had not arrived, and the Elector of Bavaria was yet 
undecided. 

The army of the allied enemies increased daily, while that 
of the Austrians was decimated partly by contagious diseases, 
partly by a division of their forces, for the defence of the 
only fortress which was in a condition to arrest the advance of 
the Turks. 

The duke’s army, which now numbered twenty-three thou- 
sand men, was encamped in front of the fortress of Raab ; for 
here the Turks would make their first attack, and to possess 
Raab was to hold the key of Upper Hungary and Central Aus- 
tria. The army had halted there in the course of the after- 
noon, but, as night approached, the hum of action gradually 
ceased, and gloomy silence reigned throughout. No groups 
of merry soldiers gathered round the camp-fires with laugh, or 
jest, or mirthful song. Some slept from exhaustion and dis- 
15 


218 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


courage ment, others sat mournfully gazing toward the east, 
which, unlike the dark horizon around, was lit up with a fiery 
glow, that marked the advance of the ferocious invaders. In 
one tent pitched on a hillock that overlooked the camp-ground, 
a faint light shone through the crevices of the curtain ; and 
this glimmering spark was the only sign of life that was to be 
seen. The rest of the camp was in utter darkness. 

The tent whence beamed this solitary light was that of the 
commander-in-chief, to whom his scouts had just brought in- 
telligence which necessitated prompt action. He had sent for 
General Caprara and Prince Louis of Baden ; and when his 
interview with them was at an end, he dispatched his adjutant 
for Prince Eugene of Savoy. 

| In a few moments Eugene raised the hangings of the tent 
and silently saluted his commander. The latter seemed not 
to have perceived his entrance. He stood before a table, lean- 
ing over a map on which he was tracing and retracing lines 
with his fingers. Eugene stepped closer, and followed the 
motions of the duke with his eyes. He seemed to understand 
them ; for his countenance expressed anxiety and astonish- 
ment. 

A long pause ensued, after which the duke raised his head 
and spoke : 

“ You have been here for some time ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness ; I came as soon as I received your 
orders. ” 

“ I saw the shadow of your head on the map. You were 
watching my fingers attentively. I was glad to see that you 
were interested. What did you infer from your inspection of 
the map ? ” 

“ I will try to tell your highness as well as I can,” was the 
modest reply. “You began by drawing a line from Stuhl- 
weissenburg with three fingers. This represented the Turkish 
army, composed of three columns. Your forefinger represented 
the left wing, your third the right wing, and your middle fin- 
ger the main body of the army. The two wings were then de- 
tached, and made a circuitous march to capture the fortress 
of Wesgrim. They again joined the main army, and I saw, 
with astonishment, that the consolidated forces had flanked 


THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 


219 


Raab, Comorn, and Leopoldstadt, had passed by the shores of 
the Neusidler Sea, and were now encamped on the banks of 
the Leitha.” 

“ You have guessed most accurately,” cried the duke, who 
had listened in amazement to Eugene’s reply. 

“ It was not difficult to do,” remarked the latter. “ Since I 
have had the honor of serving under your highness, I have 
studied this map daily. I know every thicket, every forest, 
every stream laid down upon it. The whole country which 
it comprises is as familiar to me as if I surveyed it all at a 
glance. It is not, then, surprising that I should understand 
the movements of your highness’s fingers.” 

“ You think it quite natural — I consider it extraordinary. 
But you have raised my curiosity to know whether you also 
were able to interpret what followed.” 

“After accompanying the enemy to the banks of the 
Leitha, your highness stopped, raised your hand, and laid your 
finger upon the fortress of Raab. This, of course, denotes the 
position of our own army, and the direction in which we are 
to move.” 

“ Move ? We came here to defend this stronghold.” 

“We have been flanked, and have nothing to gain by a de- 
fence of Raab. With your finger, then, upon Raab, you were 
deliberating as to the route we are to take ; since it is evident 
that, if we are not prompt, we will be cut off from Vienna. 
You made two divisions of your army. One finger traced a 
line across the island of Schiitt to Presburg, and thence to 
Vienna ; this, I presume, denotes the march of the infantry. 
The other finger, on the left bank of the Danube, drew a line 
from W ieselburg to Hainburg, and this route would be for our 
cavalry— it is too rough for foot-soldiers.” 

The duke listened with growing interest, and when Eugene 
ceased, he put his arm affectionately around the neck of the 
young officer, and exclaimed, “ I congratulate you, Eugene. 
You will be a great captain. You will be a better general than 
I. Let us hope that you will also be a more fortunate one — 
that you will complete what I have begun — avenge Austria’s 
wrongs on France, and restore her to her place as one of the 
four great powers. You have not only the instincts of a 


220 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


soldier, but the quickness and penetration which constitute 
military genius. My pupil, I think, will ere long become my 
master.” 

“ Ah ! ” replied Eugene, “ unless you keep me as a pupil, I 
shall never become a master.” 

“ The little that I know you shall learn from me, Eugene. 
I have predicted for you a glorious career, and, as far as lies in 
my power, I will contribute to your success. But success is as 
much the fruit of policy as of genius. You must not proclaim 
your preference for me to the world ; it will impede your ad- 
vancement. To obtain promotion you must be an ostensible 
adherent of my enemies ; and for this reason I shall give you 
some command near the persons of General Caprara and Louis 
of Baden.” 

“ Your highness, Louis of Baden is not — ” 

“ My enemy, you would say ? Believe me, I know human 
nature better than you do ; but I have no resentment against 
Louis on account of his animosity. He is young, ambitious, 
and capable ; it is therefore but natural that he should covet 
my position. He will obtain it, for all my enemies will give 
him their suffrages, and chief among them all is the Margrave 
Herman. I, on the' contrary, have but one friend— the em- 
peror. ” 

“ But the emperor is a host within himself,” cried Eugene. 

“ If you think so, it is- because you are unacquainted with 
the intrigues of the Austrian court. The privy council has 
more power than Leopold ; and the veritable ruler of Austria 
is the minister of war, who, from his green-covered table, 
plans our battles and commands our armies. What do you 
suppose are my instructions from the war department ? I 
must first, with my thirty-three thousand men, hold the entire 
Turkish army in check ; I must garrison Raab, Comorn, and 
Leopoldstadt ; I must defend fifty miles of frontier between 
the pass of Jublunkau and Pettau ; I must oppose the passage 
of the enemy to Vienna ; and having accomplished all these 
impossibilities, I must end by giving him battle wherever and 
whenever I meet him.” * 

“ Impossible, indeed ! ” cried Eugene, indignantly. 

* Kausler, “ Life of Eugene of Savoy.” 


THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 


221 


“ And, for that very reason, assigned to me as my duty. 
For, as I shall certainly not accomplish it, there will be an out- 
cry at my incapacity, and a pretext for my removal. I shall 
fulfil my obligations nevertheless, as conscientiously to foes as 
to friends. I have borne arms for the emperor against France, 
Sweden, Hungary, and Turkey ; if it serve his interests or those 
of Austria, I am ready to struggle with his enemies at home ; 
but, if my championship is to be dangerous to my sovereign or 
to my country, I shall resign without a protest. As for you, 
my son, the path of glory is open to you ; perhaps before an- 
other sun has set, you may flesh your maiden sword in the blood 
of the infidel. You have anticipated my intentions. We are 
about to march to Vienna. Do you hear the signal ? The 
men are being awakened ; and in one hour we must be on our 
way. I sent for you to bid you farewell. So far, you have 
been attached to my person, and I have learned to esteem and 
love you. But the opportunity for you to distinguish yourself 
is at hand, and I must no longer retain you by me. I assign 
you to your brother’s regiment of dragoons. It belongs to the 
brigade of Prince Louis, and the division of General Caprara. 
I part from you reluctantly, but I do it for your own good ; 
and I hope soon to make honorable mention of my favorite 
officer to the emperor. ” 

“ My dear lord,” answered Eugene, in a voice that trembled 
with emotion, “ I will do all that I can to deserve your ap- 
proval. I care for naught else in this world ; and if after a 
battle you say that you are satisfied with me, I shall be richly 
rewarded for any peril, any sacrifice.” 

At this moment the curtain of the tent was drawn aside, 
and the duke’s staff entered. He waved his hand in token of 
adieu to Eugene, at the same time saying : 

“ And now, colonel, Prince of Savoy, you will join your 
brother’s regiment. It has received its orders, and is in readi- 
ness to depart.” 

Eugene bowed low and left the tent. 

The Austrian camp was now alive and in motion, but the 
men were spiritless and taciturn. Conscious of the immense 
superiority of the enemy, they advanced to meet him with 
more of resignation than of hope. Not only were they out- 


222 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


numbered, but their foe was one whose every step was marked 
by incendiarism and murder. The zest, the incentive to gal- 
lantry, was gone ; and, believing that they were going forth to 
death, they went like victims to an inevitable doom. Far dif- 
ferent were the feelings with which Eugene mounted his horse, 
and crossed the field to join the division of General Caprara. 
He found Prince Louis of Savoy already in the saddle, await- 
ing his arrival. The brothers greeted each other with fondest 
affection. 

“ Dear Eugene,” said Louis, “ my heart is joyous, since I 
know that we are to go in company. How sweet and home- 
like it is to have you with me ! By-and-by, we shall see you 
cutting off Turks’ heads as if they were poppies.” 

“ For each one that I send to his account, I mean to claim a 
kiss from my beautiful sister-in-law.” 

“ You are welcome if you can get them,” laughed Louis. 
“ But Urania is not prodigal of her kisses, Eugene ; I never 
was able to obtain a single one until she became my wife. 
But let us not speak of her. Love is any thing but an incen- 
tive to valor ; and just now I almost envy you who have 
never loved. If you intend to be a soldier, twine no myrtle 
with your laurels until you shall have attained renown.” 

Eugene’s brow darkened, and a gleam of anguish shot 
athwart his countenance. “ I shall never,” began he — 

But just at that moment the trumpet’s peal was heard, and 
Prince Louis, galloping off, gave the word of command to 
move on. 

And now was heard the roll of the drum, the clang of arms, 
the stamp of horses, and the measured tread of men. The in- 
fantry took the left, the cavalry the right bank of the Danube. 
When morning dawned, the camp lay far behind them, but 
the road was long that led to Vienna. 

The two Princes of Savoy rode together. Little had been 
said by either one, but whenever their eyes met, each read in 
the glance of the other that he was dearly loved, and then they 
smiled, and relapsed into silence. After riding in this way for 
several miles, Prince Louis spoke. 

“ I wish to ask you something, Eugene. But promise not to 
ridicule me.” 


THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 


223 


“ I promise, with all my heart.” 

“ Then tell me— do you believe in dreams and presenti- 
ments ? ” 

Eugene reflected for a while and then said, “ Yes — you 
know that our family have every reason to believe in dreams. 
Mine have often been realized ; and often too, I must confess, 
that they have deceived me — but still I am a believer.” 

“ Well, then,” said his brother, “ I shall meet my death to- 
day.” 

Eugene shuddered. “ Meet your death ! ” exclaimed he. 
“ This is a grim jest, dear Louis.” 

“No jest, brother ; a serious prediction. Last night I saw 
myself mortally wounded, and I heard the wailing of my wife 
and children, when the news of my death was brought to 
them. It was so vivid that it awakened me. Dear Eugene, 
if I fall, be a brother to my Urania, a father to my chil- 
dren.” 

“ I will, I will, Louis, but God forbid that they should 
need protection from me ! Were you to die, I should lose my 
only friend, for whom have I to love in this world besides 
yourself, dear brother ? ” 

“ Nay, Eugene,” returned Louis, “ I cannot be your only 
or your dearest friend, for you do not trust me. From our 
cousins, the Princes de Conti, I learned that you had endured 
some great sorrow at the hands of Louvois, the French min- 
ister of war. I have waited for you to confide your troubles 
to me, but — Great God ! What is the matter ? ” 

Eugene had reined in his horse with such force, that it 
seemed to be falling back upon its haunches. His face was 
deadly pale, and his hand raised imploringly. 

“My head reels,” murmured he, in return. “I dare not 
think of the past, much less speak of it. Dear, dear brother, 
do not exact it of me. Be content to know that, for three 
days of my life, I was happy beyond the power of man to ex- 
press — but for three days only. What followed almost cost 
me my reason ; and the mere mention of my misfortune un- 
settles it to day. Give me your hand, and let us drop this 
subject forever, Louis. I have no past ; futurity is everything 
to me.” 


224 : 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ So be it,” replied Louis, grasping his brother’s hand with 
fervor. “ From this day we are comrades for life ! ” 

Their hands remained clasped for a few seconds : then, as by 
a simultaneous impulse, the brothers struck spurs into their 
horses* flanks, and galloped swiftly onward. The troops were 
allowed to halt but once during the day ; they went on and on 
until sunset, when they arrived within sight of the market- 
town of Petronelle. Between the city and the tired troopers 
was a wide plain, whose uniformity was broken here and there 
by the ruins of ancient Roman fortifications. 

Suddenly there was a cry, a clash of swords, and a clang 
of trumpets uttering strange sounds ; and, as the regiment of 
the Princes of Savoy was defiling along a passage between the 
ruins, a troop of Tartars that had been in ambuscade behind, 
sprang out, uttering the most hideous yells. 

“ Forward ! ” cried Prince Louis, brandishing his sword. 

“ Forward ! ” echoed Eugene, joyfully, spurring his horse 
into their very midst. For a while the brothers fought side by 
side, Louis with calm intrepidity, Eugene with the instinct, the 
enthusiasm, the inspiration of genius. His sword mowed 
down the Tartars as the reaper’s scythe sweeps away the 
grass ; but unhappily the attack had been so sudden, and the 
cries which had accompanied it so frightful, that the Austrians 
became panic-stricken, and their ranks disorderly. 

In vain the elder Prince of Savoy tried to rally them ; in 
vain Eugene, followed by a few veterans, called upon them 
to charge ; his reckless gallantry availed him nothing. Fi- 
nally his arm with its unsheathed sword, dropped discour- 
aged at his side. 

“ Lost, lost ! ” cried he to his brother. “ Lost and dis- 
graced ! ” 

“Yes, by Heaven, they are flying ! ” was the despairing 
reply. But as he spoke the words, he saw that he was in error. 
The galloping horses were coming nearer and nearer, and now 
they saw that re-enforcement was at hand. The Duke of Lor- 
raine with his cavalry was flying to their rescue, and the fight 
was resumed. The dragoons, encouraged by the sight of their 
commander-in-chief, now charged the Tartars, and they in 
their turn began to fly. 


THE BAPTISM OF BLOOD. 


225 


Prince Louis was eager to pursue them, and, calling his 
men, the chase began. His horse outstripped the others, and 
unhappily was so conspicuous a mark, that the arrow of a 
Calmuck, hidden behind the ruins of a triumphal arch, pierced 
his breast. Maddened by pain, the animal leaped so high in 
the air that his rider was thrown to the ground ; and while 
the horse rushed on, his master was trodden down by his own 
dragoons, who, in the eagerness of pursuit, trampled their un- 
fortunate commander to death. 

The enemy had been repulsed, and the troops were in better 
spirits. Eugene rode from rank to rank, repeating the same 
words, “ Where is my brother ? Where is the Prince of Sa- 
voy ? ” 

Not a man there could answer his questions, for not one 
had seen his leader fall. At length, it was remembered that 
a wounded horse had been seen madly rushing over the plain, 
but the excited troopers had given no heed to the circum- 
stance ; it was an occurrence too common in an engagement, 
to arrest them for a moment from their pursuit of an enemy. 

Eugene’s heart was bounding with joy, and he had been 
seeking his brother to give and receive congratulations. His 
countenance, which had been glowing with pride, became sud- 
denly disturbed ; his flashing eyes grew dull and leaden, and 
so for one moment he sat, stricken and motionless. But he 
started from his lethargy, and crying out to his men, “ Follow 
me ! ” they galloped away to the spot where the dying and the 
dead were heaped together near the ruined arch where the 
Tartars had been concealed. 

In an instant the unfortunate youth saw the body of his 
brother. He flung himself from his horse, and knelt down by 
his side. Gracious Heaven ! was that bruised and shapeless 
mass all that remained of the comeliness and grace of Louis 
of Savoy ! 

Eugene bent down, and, lovingly as a mother lifts her new- 
born infant, he raised his brother’s mangled head, and rested 
it upon his arm. The hot tears that fell upon that poor, bleed- 
ing face, awoke the small remnant of life that was pulsating 
in the dying prince’s heart, and his filmy eyes unclosed. Their 
light was almost extinguished, but Eugene saw that he was 


226 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


recognized, for the feeble spark kindled, and the pale lips 
fluttered. 

“ My dream ! ” were the words he uttered, “ my dream ! ” 

“ No, no ! ” cried Eugene, in piercing tones of anguish, while 
with his trembling hand he stroked his brother’s hair and 
wiped the death-dew from his brow. 

“ Eugene,” murmured Louis, “ my wife — my chil — ” 

“ Oh ! they shall be mine— mine, beloved,” was the passion- 
ate reply. 

“Kiss me, brother, and — bear the kiss to my Urania.” 

Eugene stifled his sobs, and kissed the pale, cold lips. A 
shudder crossed the frame of the dying man, a torrent of blood 
gushed from his lips, and moving his head so that it rested 
close to his brother’s heart, he expired. 

With a groan, Eugene fell upon his lifeless body. How 
long he had lain there he knew not, when he felt a gentle 
touch upon his shoulder. He looked up, and beheld the Duke 
of Lorraine. 

“ Prince Eugene,” said he, u war has claimed from you a 
terrible sacrifice. You have lost a brother whom you most 
tenderly loved. But a soldier must conquer grief ; and who 
more than he should remember that death, however painful, • 
cancels all human woes ? ” 

Eugene rose slowly to his feet, and raised his hand all pur- 
ple with his brother’s gore. “ See,” said he, “ my brother has 
given me the baptism of war, and now I dedicate myself to 
strife. This blood-besprinkled hand shall smite the Turk, 
shall ruin his fields, shall devastate his towns.— Ah, Louis ! 
Ambition has hitherto been my incentive to glory, but revenge 
is stronger than ambition, and revenge shall lift me to great- 
ness ! ” 

The setting sun poured down a stream of light upon the 
speaker, who, small, delicate, and insignificant, seemed trans- 
figured into the genius of w T ar. The dragoons around looked 
upon him with awe ; and, long years after, they were accus- 
tomed to relate the circumstance of Prince Louis’s death, and 
Prince Eugene’s vow. 


VIENNA. 


227 


CHAPTER X. 

VIENNA. 

“ The Turks, the Turks ! The Tartars are coming ! The 
Duke of Lorraine has been defeated ! We are lost ! ” 

Such were the cries in Vienna, on the morning of the 8th 
of July, 1683. A courier from the Duke of Lorraine had 
brought news of the unfortunate skirmish near Petronelle, 
and had warned the emperor of the approach of the enemy. 
Leopold had acted upon the information at once, and prep- 
arations were making by the royal family to evacuate Vi- 
enna. 

This fact was no sooner known throughout the city, than 
thousands of its inhabitants prepared to follow. If the em- 
peror deserted his capital, it was because he knew that it must 
fall ; and those who loved their lives were determined to fly. 
From palace to hut there was but one common feeling — a fren- 
zied desire to go elsewhere — anywhere rather than remain to 
be butchered by the infidel. 

Whosoever possessed a carriage, a wagon, a cart, was an 
object of greater envy than he who counted his treasures by 
millions. Incredible prices were offered and received for the 
roughest of conveyances. Before every house stood vehicles 
of every kind, crowded with fugitives, upon whom the poorer 
classes gazed with longing eyes ; many of them, by dint of 
tears and prayers, obtaining liberty to hang on the wagons as 
they drove away. 

And now amid the throng arose a cry. “ The emperor ! 
the emperor ! ” 

Yes — he sat in his imperial carriage, pale, mournful, silent. 
And at his side, sorrowful as he, was the Empress Eleanor. 
Behind them, in another carriage, came the aja, with the 
crown prince of Austria in her arms. Alas ! not even for 
that innocent babe was there safety to be found in the doomed 
city. 

The people, like madmen, rushed through the streets behind 
the imperial cortege. Whither their sovereign went, they de- 


228 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


termined to follow ; for with him, they fancied, they would 
find refuge from the terrible Turk. 

The retinue of the emperor took the way toward the Dan- 
ube, and the long train of carriages thundered over its wide 
bridge. At intervals the people shouted : 

“ Follow his imperial majesty ! Whither our sovereign 
travels, we must go for safety ! ” And for six hours the bridge 
was thronged with passengers ; some in vehicles, some cling- 
ing to vehicles ; ladies and lackeys together in rumbles, or 
together hanging to the carriage-doors. Never in his life 
had such a cortege followed the Emperor of Austria ; and 
certainly a procession more mournful had never accompa- 
nied a sovereign before. Leopold’s destination was Linz ; 
but the way was tedious, the roads sandy, and the sun’s rays 
scorching. Poor horses ! they were white with sweat ; but 
still the drivers urged them on, for relays there were none. 
Terror had alipost depopulated the country. Toward nightfall 
the fugitives were compelled to halt, for their tired animals 
were too stiff to travel farther, and themselves were weary and 
hungry. 

They had reached a small village, where Leopold gave 
orders to have beds and supper prepared for his pale and worn- 
out empress. 

“Ah, yes !” sighed she, “ I am hungry and sleepy.” 

But from some mismanagement, the wagons containing the 
beds and provisions of the imperial family had either stopped 
on the way, or had never left Vienna. 

The • poor empress folded her hands and began to pray. 
The emperor bowed his head. “ My house is sorely in need,” 
said he, sadly, “but we are all in the hands of Almighty God. 
Whithersoever it be His will to exile us, I am ready to go ; 
and may His holy will be done ! ” 

The imperial pair then left their carriage, and, a bed being 
made of the cloaks of the pages, they laid them down to sleep 
under the dark-blue vault of the spangled heavens. But, at 
the dawn of day, they resumed their journey. The horses had 
rested, and the gentlemen of the imperial household had pro- 
cured some homely refreshments for the famished monarch 
and his family. It consisted of eggs, milk, and black bread ; 


VIENNA. 


229 


but hunger lent it savor, and their majesties ate with more 
relish, perhaps, than they had ever done before. 

They set out again. Their way now lay over cornfields, 
where the farmers, with their maids and men, were gather- 
ing the wheat, and binding it into sheaves. They, too, were 
in terror of the Turks ; but, when they saw the imperial 
cortege slowly plodding its way through the sandy road, they 
stopped their work, and, coming up to the portieres, intruded 
their coarse, brutal faces into the very carriages themselves. 
They stared at the empress and jeered at the emperor ; in- 
quired how he liked his crown, and why he did not wear it on 
his head. They added that it was a fine thing to be on a 
throne, to be sure ; but emperors had a right to their share of 
trouble in this world, quite as much as other people ; perhaps 
they deserved a little more than others. 

When the officers and pages around heard this insolent 
scoffing, they drew their swords, and would have made short 
work of the boors ; but Leopold forbade the use of violence. 
“ Let them alone,” said he, mildly. “ They are quite right. It 
is easy to be a monarch while the sun shines, and the empire 
prospers ; let me hope to prove to my subjects that I can bear 
my reverses with humility and fortitude. Let these people 
alone ; for all trials come from above, and in His own good 
time God will help us, and end our tribulations.” 

The peasants, ashamed, slunk back into their fields, and the 
imperial retinue went on to Linz, while for those that had re- 
mained in Vienna there ensued a period of danger, hardships, 
and terrible endurance. 

Count Rudiger von Starhemberg, who had been chosen to 
defend Vienna, entered upon his perilous responsibilities with 
enthusiasm and energy. Rich and poor, great and small, were 
called upon to contribute to the general welfare. Nobles of 
high degree worked on the defences ; ladies brought baskets 
of provisions to the laborers ; and the mayor of Vienna, by 
way of setting the example to his inferiors, carried sand all 
day in a wheelbarrow to the fortifications. But bravely as 
they worked, each day augmented their danger. The sentinels 
on St. Stephen’s towers could see, by the reddened heavens, 
that the Turk was approaching. On the 12th of July the sum- 


230 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


mit of the Kahlenberg was seen to be in flames ; and the be- 
sieged bad no need to be told that a monastery had been de - 
stroyed, and its occupants perchance put to the sword. Kara 
Mustapha invested Vienna, and sent to demand the surrender 
of the city. It was refused, and the siege was begun. 

The Turks pitched their tents at the distance of several 
miles, and began to mine. Meanwhile a terrible fire broke 
out in Vienna which threatened destruction to its inhabitants. 
Driven onward by a high wind, it consumed street after street, 
and at length approached the arsenal, within whose precincts 
were a shot-tower and the powder-magazine. Thousands of citi- 
zens were at the engines, making despairing efforts to arrest 
the conflagration ; but the licking flames came fast and faster 
toward the shot-tower. The wretched Viennese had given up 
every hope of salvation, when Count Guido von Starhemberg, 
the nephew of the commanding general, rescued Vienna at the 
risk of his own life. Accompanied by a few soldiers, he en- 
tered the tower, and deluged the powder-barrels with water. 
Animated by the noble devotion of the young count, others 
followed him with new supplies. The windows of the powder- 
magazine were then walled up, and the fire extinguished. 

Scarcely had the Viennese recovered from this threatened 
catastrophe before danger assailed them from another quarter. 
The Turkish lines grew closer around the city, and the Duke 
of Lorraine, who, in the interim, had arrived, and had en- 
camped on an island in the Danube, was forced back to Mora- 
via, there to await the long-promised succor of the King of 
Poland, and the long-procrastinated re-enforcements of the 
Elector of Bavaria. 

Within the gates their foes were sickness, discouragement, 
hunger, and mutiny. With these intestine enemies Count von 
Starhemberg battled manfully. His own spirit and courage 
were the weapons he used to keep down discontent. Day and 
night he was in the trenches ; and when, by skilful counter- 
mining, his men had succeeded in taking the lives of a few 
hundred Turks, Count von Starhemberg embraced the miners, 
and took the earliest opportunity of rewarding them. 

Undaunted by the Turkish bullets, he visited the ramparts 
three times daily, until finally he was struck by one of the 


VIENNA. 


231 


balls that were constantly aimed at him, and severely wounded 
in the head. He was picked up insensible, and carried home ; 
but Rudiger von Starhemberg had no time to be sick : so three 
days after he rose from his bed, and, with his head bound up, 
mounted his horse, and returned to his post. 

His short absence had been productive of much evil in 
Vienna.. It had dispirited the timid and emboldened the in- 
subordinate. But Count Rudiger had an iron will, and no 
sympathy for weakness that endangered the state. An officer 
having neglected his watch, and permitted the Turks to in- 
trench themselves in front of a bastion whereof he had the 
guard. Count von Starhemberg gave him his choice between 
the gallows and a sortie wherein he should meet the death of 
a soldier. The officer chose the latter alternative, and died 
after performing prodigies of valor. 

Two soldiers had resisted the commands of their captain. 
Both were arrested, and one of them accused the other of hav- 
ing instigated him to insubordination. In presence of their 
regiment they were made to throw for their lives, and he who 
threw the lowest number was taken out and shot. 

From the fulfilment of their duty to the country, Count 
von Starhemberg would exempt neither age nor sex. Two 
boys of less than twelve years of age were accused of having 
secret understanging with the enemy, by which, for a rich re- 
ward, they were to open the gates at night, and deliver the 
city into Kara Mustapha’s hands. Count von Starhemberg in- 
vestigated the matter thoroughly, and, the fact having been 
proved upon the boys, they were executed. 

But hunger and disease were fast decreasing the ranks of 
the besieged. The hospitals were so crowded with patients, 
that no more could obtain admittance ; and the commander, 
who seemed to have an expedient for every disaster, appealed 
to the women of Vienna to receive the sufferers in their 
houses. They responded, as woman does, to the claims of hu- 
manity, and, carrying their devotion further than was required, 
they visited the hospitals, and brought food to the men on the 
ramparts, to refresh and invigorate them as they worked. 

But unhappily, the day came when substantial food was no 
longer to be gotten. The city was invested, and no supplies 


232 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


could come from without. The Duke of Lorraine had prom- 
ised re-enforcements toward the end of the month ; and yet the 
30th day of August had dawned, and no help was vouchsafed. 

But there was yet another night to pass before they would 
despair of his coming. Crowds of men assembled on the towers 
of St. Stephen’s, that they might hear from the lips of the 
sentinels the first tidings of joy ; in the churches women and 
children were on their knees imploring Heaven to send them 
succor ; while without the Turks, who had just begun a fresh 
assault, were thinning the ranks of their defenders, and adding 
to the mournful numbers of the widows and orphans of 
Vienna. 

By morning the Turks had mined a passage to the strong- 
hold of Bavelin. Thither rushed the men with pikes, sabres, 
and clubs ; and behind them came their wives and daughters 
with boiling pitch and oil, with sacks of sand and ashes, to 
throw upon the invaders as they emerged from their subter- 
ranean passage. The expedient was successful ; the enemy 
was repulsed with loss, and the fall of Vienna averted for an- 
other day. 

A messenger from the emperor had managed to pass the 
Turkish lines, promising help to the brave besieged, could they 
but hold out till the middle of September ; but, after ten weeks 
of struggle, patient waiting, and hope deferred, two weeks 
seemed an eternity. Nevertheless the indomitable Starhem- 
berg reanimated their courage, not only by words, but by his 
noble and unselfish endurance of hardship, his fearless defi- 
ance of danger. They had resisted fifteen assaults of the ene- 
my, and had made twenty-one sallies outside of the defences. 
He knew that, if they chose, their valiant souls would sustain 
them for two weeks longer, and his burning words prevailed. 

Once more they rallied, and defended themselves with 
desperation. Though shells were bursting over their houses 
and at their feet, though sickness was raging in their hospitals, 
and hunger was wasting away their kindred, they swore to re- 
sist for two weeks longer. So they could but save Vienna, 
their fatherland, and their emperor, they were willing to en- 
dure their sufferings to the bitter end. The Turks pressed 
closer, but every foot of ground cost them thousands of men ; 


THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


233 


and their advance was disputed by heroes whose bodies were 
weakened with fasting and sickness. Not a morsel of bread 
or of fresh meat was to be seen ; for a while a cat was esteemed 
a great delicacy ; and, finally, when the rats were exhausted, 
the poor, famished Viennese were glad to eat mice. 

Meanwhile Kara Mustapha went about in his litter, calling 
upon his men to exterminate these obstinate starvelings, be- 
stowing rewards upon those who had distinguished themselves, 
and beheading with his own cimeter such as displeased or of- 
fended him. After each one of these visits of the commander 
to his trenches, the Turks made a fresh assault on the city. 
Had they made a general attack, the besieged were lost ; for 
there were within the walls of Vienna but four thousand men 
capable of bearing arms, and these were so exhausted by hun- 
ger, that they might easily have been overpowered. No 
amount of heroism could supply the want of bodily strength ; 
and at last Count von Starhemberg himself was forced to ac- 
knowledge that they must ere long capitulate. 

Every night from the towers of St. Stephen’s signal-rockets 
proclaimed to heaven and earth the distress and despair of the 
people of Vienna ; while the burning eyes of the brave com- 
mander were strained to see a responsive light, and his ears in- 
tent to listen for the answering boom of the cannon that was 
to have announced approaching succor. One week of the 
two had painfully ebbed away ; in eight days more Vienna 
would be sacked, and the Crescent would replace the Cross ! 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 

On this same 8th of September— so fraught with discour- 
agement to the suffering inhabitants of Vienna— the Duke of 
Lorraine held a council of war in his tent with his allies. The 
King of Poland was there, burning with ardor to rescue the 
capital of Austria ; the Elector of Bavaria had arrived with 
heavy re-enforcements, which, added to the troops furnished 


234 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


by Saxony, Swabia, and Franconia, swelled the army to eighty- 
four thousand men. Other volunteers from various parts of 
Germany had joined the standard of Austria, and all were 
eager to uphold the cause of Christendom against the unbe- 
lieving infidel. 

For three days the Polish troops had been occupied build- 
ing a pontoon bridge, upon which, on the 8th day of Septem- 
ber, the allied forces began to cross the Danube. 

The first to cross were the King of Poland and the Duke of 
Lorraine. No sooner had they gained the opposite bank than 
the army broke out into one universal shout of joy. 

John Sobiesky’s fine face was beaming with exultation. 
With a triumphant smile he turned to the duke, who, with 
his usual serious expression of countenance, was watching the 
troops while they came across. 

“ The Turks are lost ! ” said Sobiesky. 

“ They were lost from the moment your majesty came to 
our rescue,” was the courteous reply. “From the moment 
that you assumed the chief command, I felt certain of suc- 
cess.” 

“ My dear duke,” said the king, warmly, “ I am not so daz- 
zled by your generous praise as not to know which of us is 
the greater general of the two. If I have accepted your 
highness’s gracious relinquishment of the chief command to 
me, I shall take good care not to exercise it without advice 
from yourself. But I am in no trouble now as to the issue of 
our contest with the Turks. They are already beaten. A gen- 
eral who, at the head of two hundred thousand men, suffers 
us to construct this bridge within five leagues of his camp, is a 
man of no ability. He is as good as beaten.” * 

“ Provided we reach Vienna before our poor hungry coun- 
trymen will have been forced to surrender.” 

The king’s eyes flashed. “ Ay, ay, indeed ! ” exclaimed he, 
eagerly ; “ every thing depends upon that. The main ques- 
tion is, to march to Vienna as quick as possible.” 

“There are two roads to Vienna,” replied the duke. 

The king nodded affirmatively. “ Yes ; the road lying 

* John Sobiesky’s own words. — See Kausler, “ Prince Eugene of Savoy,” 
vol. i., p. 22. 


THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


235 


through the valley of the Danube is level ; the one that leads 
to Vienna by the Kahlenberg is steep and toilsome.” 

“ But much shorter,” added the duke. 

‘‘Let us then select the route over the Kahlenberg,” an- 
swered the king. “ Your highness understands giving sound 
advice under the garb of a passing observation.” 

Their conversation was just then interrupted by the ap- 
pearance of two young horsemen, who bowed respectfully as 
they rode by. One wore the rich and becoming uniform of 
the Polish lancers — this was the crown prince of Poland ; the 
other, more simply attired, was Prince Eugene of Savoy — the 
youngest colonel in the Austrian service. 

At a signal from the King of Poland, the youths reined in 
their horses. 

“ My son,” said the king, touching the Polish prince on the 
shoulder, “ let me congratulate you that you are about to en- 
gage the enemy under the command of one of the most dis- 
tinguished generals of the age.” 

The duke shook his head, and smilingly addressed Eugene : 
“ Prince of Savoy,” said he, “ you see before you a king whose 
least glory is his crown. Let him be your model, and when 
you confront the enemy let the thought of John Sobiesky’s 
fame urge you to deeds of prowess.” 

“ Your highness,” replied Eugene, “ not only when I con- 
front the enemy, but every day and every hour of my life, 
will I look back with emotion to the time when I beheld the 
two most eminent commanders of the age contemplating each 
other’s greatness without envy, and accepting each other’s sug- 
gestions without cavil ; and I trust that, from the sight, I may 
receive inspiration as far as lies within my capacity, to emu- 
late their moral as well as their military worth.” 

“You will ere long have the opportunity of showing us 
how proximity to John Sobiesky inspires men to valor,” re- 
plied the duke. “We are about to march to Vienna. Which 
road would you take, if you had to choose for the army ? ” 

Eugene’s large black eyes wandered over the horizon until 
they rested on the summit of Kahlenberg. “ If we gain those 
heights, we overlook not only our friends, but the entire camp 
of the enemy.” 


236 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Well answered,” said John Sobiesky. “ You are a mili- 
tary man by intuition, I see, and are destined to make a fig- 
ure in the world. You are small in person, but would be 
great in council. Men of your size and build are more fre- 
quently gifted with military genius than those of lofty stature. 
I suppose,” continued he, smiling, “ that it is because the brain 
which reasons, and the heart that feels, lie close together, and 
so can help each other. But,” said he, interrupting himself, 
“ here comes the Elector Max Emmanuel. Allow me to bid 
him welcome.” 

The Duke of Lorraine followed him with his eyes, as, in 
company with the crown prince, the king rode forward to meet 
the handsome Prince of Bavaria. 

“The Poles did well,” said he to himself, “to prefer John 
Sobiesky to me ; and, if I had known him personally, never 
would I have been his competitor for a throne. He is .better 
fitted to reign and govern than I.” 

“ Has your highness any commands for me ? ” asked Eu- 
gene. 

“ Yes, my dear young friend,” replied the duke, solemnly. 
u We draw near to Vienna. Avenge your brother’s death, but 
prize and cherish your own life. Do not wantonly expose 
your person, nor seek for danger ; for he alone is a hero whose 
valor is restrained by prudence. I shall place you, neverthe- 
less, where danger is imminent, and glory to he earned ; so 
that, when I recommend you for promotion to the emperor, 
the world may not say that you owe your advancement to 
favor.” 

“ Your highness’s advice shall he followed to the letter,” 
replied Eugene, earnestly. “I will despise danger, that I may 
avenge my brother ; yet will I guard my life, that I may be 
the protector of his wife and children. But nothing will more 
inspire raq to heroic deeds than the friendship which you so 
condescendingly evince for me. May God bless and reward 
you for your sympathy with my suffering heart ! ” 

At the end of three days, the army gained the heights of 
the Kahlenberg. The men, tired and sleepy, dispersed, and 
threw themselves down to rest under the trees ; their com- 
manders rode farther to the mountain’s brow, and there, be- 


THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


237 


neath the fiery rays of the setting sun, lay prisoned Vienna 
and her Turkish jailers. But above was a cloud of smoke and 
dust, through which ever and anon leaped columns of fire, 
while the air was heavy with reverberation of cannon. The 
Turks were storming the city. 

The besieged, mindful of their promise, were defending 
themselves with desperation. With imperturbable calm, 
Count von Starhemberg headed every sortie, and his quick 
eye perceived every little advantage that could be taken ; 
while his wise precautions saved many a life, and warded off 
many a peril. His redoubts were no sooner damaged than re- 
paired ; trench after trench was dug ; street by street defended 
with palisades, improvised of rods and beams. 

As night came on, the heavy firing of the Turks ceased, and 
a dead stillness followed the terrible boom of cannon. The 
streets were ploughed with balls, the ashes of many a con- 
sumed building were scattered about by the wind, while here 
and there a fitful blaze was seen issuing from a shapeless mass 
that once had been the stately home of some proud Austrian 
noble. Pale, ghastly figures wandered among the ruins, 
searching for food, which, alas ! they rarely found. But, 
amid this “ abomination of desolation,” they still lifted their 
eyes to heaven for help, and still clung to hope of rescue. 

Count Starhemberg, as usual, had ascended the tower of 
St. Stephen’s ; while in the city below every form was pros- 
trate in prayer. With his own hand he fired the nightly 
rocket, and watched its myriads of stars as they shot heaven- 
ward, illumined the darkness, and then fell back into nothing- 
ness. His heart beat painfully, as the last scintillations went 
out, and left but the pall of night behind. But he gazed on 
in silence, and in anguish unutterable. Suddenly he unclasped 
his rigid hands, for oh ! joy ! joy ! there was light on the 
summit of the Kahlenberg ; the signal darts up into the sky, 
and from Herman’s peak the cannon proclaims that help is 
nigh ! 

One cry of rapture burst from the lips of all who stood 
around the commander ; the warder grasped his speaking- 
trumpet, and cried out to the crowd below, “ The signal is an- 
swered ! ” 


238 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The sound was caught up by the eager multitude, the 
blessed tidiugs were borne from street to street, and the people 
with one accord knelt down and thanked God. Noble and 
simple, aged and young, all hastened to St. Stephen’s. Men 
clasped hands ; and strangers that had never met before, em- 
braced one another like friends and kinsmen. Hope had soft- 
ened all hearts, joy’s electric touch had made a thousand inter- 
ests one : men were no longer segregate, their lives were 
blended into one great emotion. 

Count von Starhemberg was so overcome, that for some 
moments his tongue refused him utterance. When he spoke, 
his voice, so accustomed to command, trembled and grew soft 
—soft and gentle as that of a young maiden. 

“ Will some one fetch me pen and paper ? ” said he. And 
when a portfolio was brought for him to write upon, he 
could scarcely command his hand while it traced these few 
words : 

‘‘ Lose no time ; in Heaven’s name, be quick, or we are 
lost ! ” 

“ Who will venture to swim across the Danube, and deliver 
this paper to the Duke of Lorraine ? ” added he. 

Three young men volunteered at once. Count von Star- 
hemberg chose the one that seemed the strongest, and gave it 
to him. 

“ Promise me that you will deliver it or die ! ” 

“ I promise,” was the reply of the young man, who, without 
tarrying another moment, sprang down the steps and disap • 
peared. 

In a few hours, another rocket from the mountain-top an- 
nounced the safe arrival of the messenger, and promised 
speedy relief. 

Yes, deliverance was at hand. At gray dawn, the army 
were ready to march, and the King of Poland, the Duke of 
Lorraine, and Louis of Baden were in the saddle. When all 
were assembled, John Sobiesky dismounted, and kneeling be- 
fore the altar of Leopold’s chapel, addressed a prayer to Heav- 
en for a blessing on the approaching struggle. In his priestly 
robes, within the chancel, stood Marcus Avianus, the inspired 
Capuchin whom the pope had sent to Germany to preach 


THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


239 


this new crusade. His burning words had done as much for 
the cause of Christianity as the stalwart arms of Austria’s best 
warriors ; and now, as he raised his hands on high, and eighty 
thousand men knelt to receive his blessing, their hearts 
throbbed with joy, for they felt that the God of battles would 
be with them that day. 

The rites done, John Sobiesky bestowed the honor of 
knighthood upon his son, “ thereby commemorating the proud- 
est day of their lives ; ” and at the conclusion of the ceremony, 
he addressed the Polish army, exhorting them to fight as be- 
came a Christian host in a cause “ where death was not only 
the path to glory, but the way to heaven.” 

“I have but one command to give my men,” said he, 
in conclusion. “Let them follow their king, and wherever 
he is to be seen, there let them know that the battle rages 
fiercest.” 

A tumultuous shout was the answer to this exhortation. 
It gathered strength as it passed along the ranks, until it awoke 
a thousand echoes from the mountain-tops around ; while the 
rays of the sun, like a consecrating fire, glistened from the point 
of every bayonet, and flashed from the blade of every waving 
sword. 

The cheers of the Christians were borne on the summer air, 
until the sound reached the very camp of the Turks. It sent 
consternation to the heart of Kara Mustapha, as he lay smok- 
ing his hookah under a tent of silk and velvet. For sixty days 
he had besieged Vienna with his hundreds of thousands. 
Against its obstinate defenders warfare had failed ; and now 
that hunger was about to do what he had vainly tried— to par- 
alyze their valor, here came succor, to render his victory doubt- 
ful. For he well knew that the Christians were full of ardor, 
while his Turks were tired of fighting. That he might excite 
their thirst for blood, he assembled all his prisoners, men, wom- 
en, and children, together, and, within view of his army, or- 
dered them all to be massacred. The work of death began, 
and the expiring cries of his victims were the Paynim’s answer 
to the shouts of the Christians, that were raising their hearts 
to God. 

That fearful wail was heard, too, by the beleaguered men 




240 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


of Vienna ; and the thought of their butchered kindred gave 
strength to their famished bodies. They hungered no longer 
for food ! they thirsted for blood. 

And now the bells, which for sixty days had been silent, 
rang out their alarum, calling all to the last great struggle. 
The sick raised their heads, and felt the glow of health thrill- 
ing through their fevered veins ; the aged worked like youths 
—the youths like demi-gods. And fuH of hope, full of valor, 
the brave citizens of Vienna awaited the coming of their liber- 
ators. 

The main body of the allied army was commanded by the 
Electors of Bavaria and of Saxony ; the right wing, by John 
Sobiesky ; the left, by the Duke of Lorraine and Louis of Ba- 
den. The plan of the attack had been made according to the 
suggestions of the King of Poland. 

At the side of Louis of Baden rode Eugene of Savoy, his 
sorrows all forgotten in the excitement of the occasion. His 
countenance beamed with animation, his eyes darted fire. His 
black war-horse, too, partook of his enthusiasm : he pranced, 
leaped into the air, and neighed as if in defiance of the barbs 
that were to bear his enemies into battle that morning. 

“ My dear cousin,” said Eugene to Louis, “ I implore you let 
me go early into action. Give me something to do as soon as 
we are in sight of the enemy, and thereby prove me your 
love.” 

“ You shall have your wish, Eugene. Your division is to 
open the engagement. As soon as you hear the discharge of 
the cannon from the heights of the Kahlenberg, you ad- 
vance.” 

With a joyful wave of the hand, Eugene sprang forward, 
and placed himself at the head of his dragoons, where, rigid as 
a statue, he stood with his eyes raised to the summit of the 
Kahlenberg. 

The first shot rolled like thunder through the valley 
gorges. The men grasped their muskets, the horses pawed 
the ground. The second, the third, followed, and every 
eye glistened, and every heart throbbed. The fourth — the 
fifth ! 

“ En avant ! ” cried Eugene ; and the dragoons galloped 


THE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


241 


forward. They were to drive the enemy from the valley of 
the Nussberg, and force the pass of Heiligenstadt. But the 
Turks disputed every inch of the ground, making breastworks 
of every hillock, trenches of every hollow. They defended 
the way with such desperation that the Austrian cavalry began 
to waver. 

An exclamation of fury was heard from the lips of Eugene. 
“ Victory or death ! ” cried he ; and with these words the 
intrepid youth struck spurs into his horse, and sprang through 
the pass ; his sabre, flashing like lightning through the air, as 
right and left it dealt destruction to the Janizaries that dis- 
puted his passage. 

Amazed at such prowess, the dragoons gave one simultane- 
ous cheer, and leaped into the enemy’s midst. From that mo- 
ment they moved on like a granite wall ; onward in the track 
of their gallant commander, all peril disregarding, they fought 
their way, until, inspired by his heroism, encouraged by the 
soul-stirring tones of his blithe young voice, they won the pass, 
and forced the enemy back. 

Meanwhile the imperial and Saxon forces had advanced 
from the Kahlenberg, in one dense column, the sight of which 
had sorely shaken the confidence of Kara Mustapha in his 
power to resist them. 

On swept the mighty mass, and in a few moments the deep 
thunder of the cannon reverberated along the mountain 
gorges ; the clashing of swords and the rattling of musketry 
mingled with the cries of the wounded, and the groans of the 
dying ; while all above was fire and smoke. The passes were 
reddened with blood, which drop by drop flowed down their 
declivities, until it met another life destroying current on its 
way ; and both glided onward to the Danube, empurpling its 
waters with the mingled gore of Christian and Paynim. 

The battle raged, without any decisive advantage, until 
long after noon. At four o’clock, however, the Ulans of the 
King of Poland were about to be overpowered by superior 
numbers, when re-enforcement came in the form of a charge 
on the right wing of the Turks, by the troops under Charles 
of Lorraine. Those flying squadrons, beneath whose horses’ 
hoofs the ground is trembling as if upheaved by an earth- 


212 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


quake, are headed by Eugene — the indomitable Eugene. On 
his foam-flecked steed, with a sword in his hand that is gory to 
the hilt, comes the “ little abbe,” who was too much of a weak- 
ling to obtain a commission in the army of the King of France. 
If his mother could see him now, she would confess that he 
was no fit aspirant for a scarlet hat. 

Side by side rode Eugene and Louis of Baden, both heading 
that bloody chase. Over heaps of corpses, over struggling 
horses, falling timbers, through smoke and fire, they dashed 
toward the gates of Vienna. Count Starhemberg was there 
with his handful of braves, making gallant resistance to the 
Janizaries. But for the mad charge of Eugene, the little garri- 
son would soon have been cut to pieces. But the attack on 
their rear surprised the Janizaries ; they fell hack, only to be 
confronted by the Duke of Lorraine, and, believing resistance 
to he useless, they fled. 

The King of Poland meanwhile was within the gates en- 
gaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the enemy in the streets. 
He was not left long to struggle without help. Once more 
Eugene and his cavalry came to the rescue ; and now the Turk- 
ish legions are flying for their lives, while the Christians are 
shouting for joy and victory ! 

Kara Mustapha, who was to have made his seat of empire 
at Vienna, has suddenly become a panic-stricken adventurer. 
With that singular absence of fortitude which so often distin- 
guishes tyrants in adversity, he fell to weeping like a child, 
and went whining for protection to the Khan of Tartary. 

“ Save me, save me ! ” was his cowardly cry. 

The khan shook his head. “We know the King of Poland 
too well,” said he. “ Nobody can withstand him.” 

And from this moment nothing was thought of, in the 
Turkish camp, but flight. Kara Mustapha’s war-horse, with 
its housings of purple velvet worked in pearls, was too heavy 
to bear him away from Vienna ; he mounted a fleet-footed 
Arabian, and sped away without thought of the treasures he 
was leaving behind. His costly tent, bis girdles of diamonds, 
his cimeters inlaid with rubies and sapphires, his six hundred 
sacks of piastres, all fell into the hands of John Sobiesky. 

While joy and jubilee prevailed throughout the streets of 


TIIE RE-ENFORCEMENTS. 


243 


Vienna, Eugene of Savoy was on his way to the dwelling of 
his widowed sister : but, while he sorrowed with Urania and 
her orphans, his name was being borne upon the trumpet-blast 
of fame, as chief among the heroes that rescued Vienna from 
the infidel. 


BOOK IY. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE FALL OF BUDA. 

As a signal that the conference was at an end, the Emperor 
Leopold rose from his arm-chair. The president and vice- 
president followed his example, and the other members of the 
council bowed and retired. The Margrave of Baden and 
Count von Starhemberg remained standing by the green table, 
while the emperor, who had crossed the room, now stood va- 
cantly staring out of a window, drumming with his fingers on 
one of the panes. 

His two counsellors were perfectly an fait to the import 
of this drumming ; it meant that the emperor’s thoughts were 
with his army, which was still in the field, although three 
years had gone by since the siege of Vienna. During this 
protracted struggle both parties had fought bravely, but neither 
one had as yet prevailed against the other. In 1684 the Aus- 
trians had gained a brilliant victory over the allied enemy ; 
but, in the course of the same year, the Turks, by their obsti- 
nate valor, had forced the Duke of Lorraine to abandon the 
siege of Buda, which, since then, had remained in their pos- 
session, and gave them entire control of Hungary. 

The emperor’s thoughts, then, were at Buda, while his fin- 
gers still drummed on the window-pane. At last he turned 
around. 

“ Any news from the army ? ” asked he, hastily. 

“ None, your majesty,” replied the margrave. “ Since the 
news of the junction of the Duke of Lorraine’s forces with 
those of Prince Louis of Baden and Max Emmanuel, nothing 
further has been heard as to the progress of the siege.” 

( 244 ) 


THE FALL OF BUDA. 


245 


“ And that, of course, signifies that there is nothing good 
to be told,” added Von Starhemberg. “If the Duke of Lor 
i*aine had met with any success, he would not have failed to 
send a courier with the tidings.” 

“ Unhappily, since he has had command of the army, he 
has had many more reverses to communicate than victories,” 
replied the margrave, with a sigh. 

“You forget his brilliant victory at Gran last year,” re- 
turned the emperor. “ Away with your petty ill-will toward 
the duke ! Forget your personal grievances in admiration of 
his heroism.” 

“ Sire,” replied the margrave, somewhat impetuously, “ there 
are personal grievances which will not allow themselves to be 
forgotten. The Duke of Lorraine, in his dispatches, has not 
only accused me of neglect in the provisioning and arming of 
his troops, but has also declared me unqualified for my posi- 
tion, and has recommended another man as minister of war.” 

“ And yet you retain your position,” replied the emperor ; 
“ so that neither one of you has influence enough with me to 
injure the other. I have great confidence, nevertheless, in the 
judgment of my brother-in-law ; and, if occasionally he is of 
opinion that battles are not to be planned on the green table of 
a council-chamber, but in the field by the man, who is to fight 
them— not in tlieorice but in praxis — lam inclined to think 
that he is right. ” 

“ One thing I hope that your majesty will do me the justice 
to remember,” answered Von Starhemberg, in a tone of vexa- 
tion. “It is this : the war department, at my suggestion, ad- 
vised that Buda should not be assaulted, but that the passes 
lying behind the city should be seized, Stuhlweissemberg be- 
sieged, and Buda, by this means, cut off from all intercourse 
with Turkey. Thus it would have fallen without bloodshed ; 
whereas we have nothing to expect, as the result of a second 
direct attack, but the news of a second repulse.” 

“ Should the Duke of Lorraine be forced to raise the siege 
a second time, I hope that the war department will remember 
that it was I, and not my commander-in-chief, who rejected 
their advice. So that, if we should be unfortunate, mine be 
the blame of the disaster, for I ordered the attack.” 


246 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


At this moment the door of the council -chamber was opened 
with some precipitation, and the chamberlain of the day ap- 
peared on the threshold. 

“What do you come to announce ? ” asked Leopold. 

“Sire, a bearer of dispatches from his highness of Lor- 
raine.” 

“Ah, lupus in fabula ,” said the emperor, with a smile. 
“Well — let in the lupus.” 

“Your majesty,” interrupted the Margrave of Baden, 
“ would it not be better for me to receive the dispatches, and 
communicate their contents to you ? The news of another 
disaster will be a great blow : your mind should be prepared 
to receive it.” 

“ I am prepared for whatever it may please God to assign,” 
replied Leopold, reverently. “ If the news be bad, it is my 
duty to confront it like a man ; if good, let me taste it pure, 
as it comes from the lips of the messenger. Let him enter ! ” 

The chamberlain stepped back, made a sign to the page in 
the anteroom, and both sides of the door were flung open. 

“ Our bearer is a person of distinction,” said Leopold to 
himself. “ Both doors are opened for a reigning prince, a 
grandee of Spain, or — ” 

Just then the bearer of dispatches appeared — a small, slight 
person, in a simple uniform, but his breast well covered with 
orders, both Austrian and Spanish. 

“ Prince Eugene of Savoy ! ” exclaimed Leopold, with evi- 
dent pleasure. And he made several steps toward the prince. 

“ Prince Eugene of Savoy,” muttered the margrave, with 
an ugly frown ; for well he knew that such an*envoy would 
never have been chosen to be the bearer of evil tidings. 

Meanwhile Eugene rapidly crossed the room, and knelt 
before the emperor. 

“ You forget,” said Leopold, raising him, “ that a knight of 
the Golden Fleece is not obliged to conform to the court cus- 
tom of kneeling. His order kneel before the Almighty alone. 
Moreover, as grandee of Spain, your highness has a right to 
appear with covered head.” 

“ Sire, I came hither neither as a grandee nor a knight. I 
came as the squire of my noble lord, the Duke of Lorraine, 


THE FALL OF BUD A. 247 

and as the soldier and subject of my emperor. Let me, then, 
greet my sovereign as my heart dictates.” 

With these words Eugene knelt again. 

“Now,” said Leopold, “rise, loyal subject, and satisfy my 
impatience. Tell me, in one word, has Buda fallen ? ” 

“ Yes, sire,” was the exulting reply. 

The emperor raised his grateful eyes to heaven, while his 
two councillors exchanged glances of dissatisfaction. Leopold 
saw this, and addressed himself to both. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he, “ pray remember that you were op- 
posed to the siege of Buda, and that it was undertaken at the 
request of the Duke of Lorraine.” 

“ Your majesty told us that you had commanded it your- 
self,” answered the margrave. “ The duke, then, has merely 
carried out orders ! ” 

“ Orders given because of his request. He proved to me 
that Buda could be taken ; and, when I commanded this sec- 
ond attempt to reduce it, I merely yielded to his better judg- 
ment. But let us change the subject. — You are most welcome,” 
continued he, to Prince Eugene. “ And now let us hear the 
details of your glad tidings.” 

“ Sire, the siege of Buda is an epic, worthy of the pen of a 
Homer. None but a great poet can do justice to the deeds of 
valor of the Duke of Lorraine.” 

“ Try you, nevertheless,” replied Leopold. “ But hold ! It 
were selfish to enjoy your narrative alone. The empress and 
the court shall partake of our happiness to day. Count von 
Starhemberg, oblige me by opening the door, and recalling 
the chamberlain.” 

The count reluctantly obeyed, and the chamberlain reap- 
peared. 

“You will announce to the ladies and gentlemen in wait- 
ing, that I request the presence of the court. I myself will 
conduct the empress hither.” Then, with a wave of his hand 
to Prince Eugene, he added, “Await our return.” 

Not long after, the empress, conducted by her imperial hus- 
band, entered the room and took her seat. The ladies and 
gentlemen in waiting stood behind, and the margrave and 
Count von Starhemberg were on either side of the emperor. 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


248 


“ And now, Prince Eugene of Savoy,” cried Leopold, 11 let 
us hear the details of the fall of Buda.” 

All eyes were turned upon Eugene, who, without boldness 
or bashfulness, calmly surveyed the brilliant assembly before 
him. In his plain, dark uniform, his black hair worn natu- 
rally and without powder, he presented a striking contrast to 
the courtiers in their magnificently -embroidered Spanish 
doublets, and huge, powdered wigs. 

He began his narrative, by alluding to the fact that for one 
hundred and twenty years, in spite of six different attempts on 
the part of Austria to retake it, the ancient capital of Hungary 
had been in the hands of the Turks. He quoted the well- 
known saying of John Sobiesky, “Buda has drunk such tor- 
rents of Christian blood, that every handful of earth around 
its walls is red and moist with gore.” He made a few brief 
remarks on the subject of the last unsuccessful attack, two 
years before ; and then, with all the enthusiasm of a warrior- 
poet, he entered upt>n the narration of the seventh siege. 

He spoke of the various stratagems, sallies, and skirmishes 
that preceded the final assault. On the 18th of June the city 
was invested, and by the end of July the allied army had 
effected an entrance, and captured so many streets that the 
besieged had been compelled to retire within the fortress. At 
the same time, combustibles were thrown into the magazine, 
which exploded with fearful destruction, and the Duke of 
Lorraine, compassionating the condition of the brave old com- 
mander, Pacha Abdurrahmen, sent a messenger, advising him 
to capitulate. Abdurrahmen, for all answer, informed the 
duke that Allah and the Prophet would shortly punish the 
audacity of the Christians, and, by way of anticipating Divine 
justice, he caused one hundred Saxons, who had been cap- 
tured a few days before, to be hanged within view of the be- 
siegers. 

This vindictive act was the signal for a new assault, and 
the fortress was attacked on three sides. The assailants were 
several times repulsed, for the Turks fought like demons. 
Undismayed, they stood upon the walls, pouring fire and shot 
into the Christian ranks until the hair was singed from their 
heads, and their scorched clothes dropped from their bodies. 


THE FALL OF BUDA. 


240 


If the allies were heroic in their attack, the Turks were not 
less so in their defence. Finally the women, too, were seen, 
some carrying ammunition, some bringing refreshments to 
the gunners, while others, singing wild strains of Turkish em- 
bateria, hurled stones from the walls upon the invading army. 

More than two thousand Austrians had fallen, but they had 
succeeded in establishing themselves within one of the bas- 
tions, and had thereby obtained possession of the prison-tower. 
The day following, however, Abdurrahmen sprung a mine, 
which killed one hundred of the imperial troops, and so terri- 
fied the others, that they retired in confusion, and the bastion 
remained in the hands of the Turks. 

Once more the Duke of Lorraine offered terms to the be- 
sieged, which a second time were indignantly refused. For 
the grand-vizier had arrived with re-enforcements, and on a 
plain just behind the city of Buda his troops were drawn up 
in battle array. The besieged now commenced an attack upon 
the besiegers ; one of their bombs burst almost at the feet of 
the Duke of Lorraine, killing and wounding several of his 
staff ; another fell into a heap of hand-grenades, which pro- 
duced a frightful conflagration. 

On the first of September Abdurrahmen was again sum- 
moned to surrender. The white-haired hero presented two 
documents to the envoys, one of which was from the high- 
priest of the Prophet at Constantinople, the other from the 
Sultan. The first enjoined it upon the pacha, as a religious 
duty, to defend Buda as the key to the Ottoman empire ; the 
other contained these few emphatic words : “Either fall as a 
martyr before the sword of the invader, or die as a traitor by 
the blade of the headsman.” 

“ You see,” added Abdurrahmen, calmly, “ that no discre- 
tion is allowed me. I must prevail against you, or fight until 
I fall.” 

This decided the question of capitulation forever ; and 
although the grand-vizier was there with his reserves, the Duke 
of Lorraine determined to storm the fortress anew T . It was a 
desperate resolve ; but, like Abdurrahmen, he had made up his 
mind to conquer or die. 

At this point of his narration, Eugene paused for breath. 
17 


250 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The emperor, perceiving that he was fatigued, made a sign to 
one of the pages in attendance, who thereupon placed a chair 
for him— a compliment never before paid by a sovereign of 
Austria to any man below the rank of a reigning prince. 

“ Prince Eugene of Savoy,” said Leopold, “ as a grandee of 
Spain, and a knight of the Golden Fleece, you have a right to 
be seated in the presence of your sovereign. Make use of the 
privilege, then ; for if you stand much longer, I see that you 
will not have strength to finish your recital ; and I would not 
abridge it by a word. It sounds like martial music to my en- 
raptured ear.” 

“ Sire,” replied Eugene, accepting the chair, “ ’tis no won- 
der if the boom of the cannon sound like music to the son of 
Charles Y. ; above all, when it thunders to proclaim your 
majesty’s success. On the 2d of September began the last as- 
sault upon the fortress of Buda. It was impossible not to ad- 
mire the intrepidity of our enemies : to a man, they seemed to 
have sworn, like their commander, to defend the post or die 
amid its ruins. But your majesty’s troops were as resolute as 
they. After a terrible conflict fought over the bodies of their 
slain comrades, they cut to pieces a detachment of Janizaries 
that had been sent to oppose their passage. 

“ ‘ No quarter ! ’ was the watchword of the Moslems. ‘ No 
quarter ! ’ cried the Christians in return. ‘ No quarter ! ’ shout- 
ed the Bavarians, as they mounted a breach in the fortress, and 
fought hand to hand with its frenzied defenders. The latter 
poured out in such numbers that the Bavarians wavered, and 
perhaps might have been repulsed, had not the gallant Louis 
of Baden mounted the breach himself, and called upon his 
men to follow. They obeyed ; the Bavarians rallied, and the 
prince ordered a fresh attack. Thanks to his valor and able 
generalship, the Turks were forced back, and fled in confusion ; 
some finding refuge within the walls, others, in their dismay, 
plunging into the moat. The Bavarians followed the fugi- 
tives, and now from every castle-window waved the white flag 
of surrender. 

“ To the hero of Buda, the brave Abdurrahmen, our com- 
manders would gladly have granted an honorable retreat. 
But he refused mercy at the hands of his admiring antago- 


THE FALL OF BUDA. 


251 


nists. Alone lie stood, sabre in band, defending the breach 
against our advancing troops, until he fell, pierced by twenty 
balls, while the bodies of his slain foes lay like a monument 
of his heroism around him. With the death of Abdurrahmen 
the struggle ceased, and that night, as a last act of defiance, 
the Turks sprung a mine in the fortress, and reduced it to a 
heap of ruins. 

“ The next morning, the grand-vizier retreated, and the plan 
of attack, inspired by the genius of the Duke of Lorraine, had 
destroyed the prestige of the Sultan in Hungary. Scarcely in- 
ferior to this great commander was the ability displayed by 
Prince Louis of Baden, and Max Emmanuel. No man who 
beheld them can ever forget the sight of these two great 
heroes, handsome and brave as Hector and Patroclus. 

“ Sire, my tale is ended. Buda has fallen, and its conquer- 
ors have immortalized themselves.” 

“ You say, your tale is at an end. Prince Eugene,” replied 
the emperor, smiling. “ But you have omitted something in 
your recital.” 

“ What is it, your majesty ? ” 

“ You have not once mentioned the name of the Prince of 
Savoy ; and yet he must have been there. You have exalt- 
ed the genius of the Duke of Lorraine, and you have likened 
his two generals to the heroes of antiquity. It is said that the 
Prince of Savoy is the inseparable companion of Prince Louis 
and Max Emmanuel. Where, then, was he, while his friends 
were gaining immortality ?” 

“ Sire, he was with them ; but, as he did no more than his 
duty, I have nothing further to say.” 

u It is your duty, as bearer of dispatches from your com- 
mander-in-chief, to answer my inquiries, let them relate to 
whomsoever they will. Where were you, then, while your 
friends were astonishing you with their valor ? ” 

He was at their side, your majesty. Before the siege, the 
three friends had sworn never to surrender to the enemy. It 
was therefore natural that the Prince of Savoy should follow 
the example of his superior officers, and imitate their gal- 
lantry.” 

“ But was he in no danger ? Was he not wounded ? ” 


252 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Sire, on such a day, no soldier could hope to escape from 
danger ; above all, the officers who led them into action. The 
Prince of Savoy’s horse was shot under him, and he himself 
was slightly wounded in the hand by an arrow.” 

“ Where was he stationed on that last day ? ” 

“ He was ordered to skirmish with the enemy, and prevent 
them from making sorties on the besiegers.” 

“ A hard task, for one so young.” 

“Yes, sire; for it condemned him to inaction, while his 
comrades were gaining glory. But before the close of the 
day, fate befriended him. The grand- vizier having made no 
attempt to join the besieged, the Prince of Savoy was so for- 
tunate as to come in with his dragoons, just as the Bavarians 
were about to be repulsed from the breach.” 

“ Ah ! I thought so ! ” exclaimed Leopold ; “ and doubt- 
less his appearance had much to do with the successful storm- 
ing of the castle. And how did the Duke of Lorraine reward 
his gallantry ? ” 

“ Sire, he was rewarded far, far beyond his deserts. The 
Duke of Lorraine, in presence of the army, folded him in his 
embrace.” 

“That was well done. Come hither, Prince Eugene. I, 
too, would reward you as the Duke of Lorraine did.” 

Eugene hastened to the emperor, who folded him in his 
arms, and then led him to the empress. 

“ Your majesty,” said he to his wife, “ I present you a young 
hero, who for three years has been gaining renown in the serv- 
ice of Austria. I recommend him to your favor, and beg that 
you, too, will bestow some reward upon him.” 

The empress turned her soft blue eyes upon the prince, who 
bent his knee, and kissed the hand sh e extended to him. “ I will 
pray for you,” said she, “ as long as I live ; and, as a testimonial 
of my regard, I beg you to accept my husband’s portrait.” 

Unclasping from her neck a heavy gold chain, to which 
was attached a miniature set in brilliants, she threw it over 
Eugene’s shoulder with these words : 

“ Let the emperor’s likeness be to you a souvenir of your 
past heroism, and may it inspire you for the future to serve 
him with loyalty and love.” 


THE FRIENDS. 


253 


“Your majesty,” replied Eugene, “of my own free will I 
chose the Emperor of Austria for my sovereign ; but from this 
day forth I am pledged to serve him as his native-born sub- 
ject : and the chain so graciously bestowed by your majesty, I 
shall wear as emblematic of my fealty, for life.” 

The emperor signed to Eugene to rise, and addressed him- 
self to all present. “ Vienna, too, shall have her share in this 
day’s joy. The crescent, which for more than a hundred years 
has proclaimed to the world that Austria’s capital was once in 
the hands of the infidel, shall be taken down from the tower 
of St. Stephen’s. We have won the right to displace the ac- 
cursed emblem, and it shall once more give place to the sym- 
bol of Christianity ! ” 

The crescent of which the emperor spoke, had been on the 
tower of St. Stephen’s since the year 1529, when Vienna was 
besieged by the Sultan Soliman. His guns were being con- 
stantly directed against the tower ; and the Viennese having 
sent a deputation to request that the Turks would not de- 
molish their beautiful cathedral, Soliman consented to spare it 
on one condition. This was, that the cross should be removed, 
and the crescent take its place. In their extremity, the prom- 
ise was made ; and, from that day, the Christian church had 
borne the hated symbol of Mohammedanism. 

At the fall of Buda, Leopold refused to be bound any 
longer by the promise extorted from his ancestors ; and, in com- 
memoration of the capture of this important post, a cross 
was erected on the tower, with this inscription : “ Luna de- 
posuit, et crux exaltata. Anno quo Buda a Turcis capta, 
MDCLXXXVI.” 


CHAPTER n. 

THE FRIENDS. 

With the capture of Buda, the campaign of 1686 closed. 
The army went into winter quarters, and the officers all con- 
gregrated in Vienna, there to indemnify themselves for past 
hardships by a few months of recreation. 


254 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Eugene of Savoy participated very little in the gayety of 
court-life. While his companion-in-arms, Louis of Baden, 
plunged headlong into the vortex of pleasure, the shy young 
Frenchman led a most retired existence, in his little hotel in 
the Herrengasse. He had purchased this residence for his 
brother’s widow and children, intending to make it not only 
their home, but his own. The young widow, after spending 
two years with her brother-in-law, forsook the world and re- 
tired to a convent, there to lay her burden of grief at the feet 
of her Lord. Her children she committed to the care of 
their great-grandmother, the Princess de Carignan ; and 
Eugene was left to the solitude of a bachelor home, without 
one friendly voice to bid him welcome to its cold hearth. 

Even Conrad, his faithful Conrad, was absent. Eugene 
had sent him to Turin with messages to Victor Amadeus, 
which he had not thought it prudent to write. For Conrad 
was not only loyal and affectionate ; he had proved himself a 
person of such uncommon ability, that he was now his lord’s 
secretary, no longer his servant. He had the care of his 
money, the administration of his affairs, and was his trusty 
and confidential friend. Eugene missed him sorely ; for Con- 
rad had accompanied him “ that night ” to the Palais Royal, 
and although Laura’s name had never passed his lips, still her 
lover found some solace in the companionship of the man who 
had tended him during that dreadful illness, and who, he 
knew full well, had learned from his unconscious lips the se- 
cret of his love and its blight. 

Eugene was in his cabinet. He had been engaged in the 
study of mathematics, and the perusal of Julius Caesar’s cam- 
paigns ; after which, by way of recreation, he sat down to his 
escritoire, and, unfolding a sheet of paper, began to make 
plans of palaces and gardens. 

He was so absorbed in his drawing, that he neither heard 
nor saw the door open, and give entrance to a handsome 
young man in a rich Spanish costume. For one moment the 
visitor paused on the threshold, and smilingly surveyed Eu- 
gene ; then, crossing the room on tiptoes, he laid his hand 
upon the prince’s shoulder. 

“ I certainly thought I would surprise you inditing a poem 


THE FRIENDS. 


255 


or a letter to the lady of your thoughts, and here I find you 
drawing plans ! ” 

“ Max Emmanuel ! ” exclaimed Eugene, rising joyfully, and 
embracing his friend. 

“ Yes, Max Emmanuel, who, haying paid his devoirs to his 
imperial father-in-law, has come with all haste to ask how it 
fares with his friend. The servants told me you were in your 
cabinet, so I forbade them to announce me, and made my way 
hither all alone, that I might take you by surprise, and find 
out whether you loved me as much as I do you. Seeing you 
intent upon writing, I was quite confident that I was about to 
discover a great secret — when lo ! I see nothing but a sheet of 
drawing-paper, covered with porches and pilasters. Tell me 
the truth, Eugene — why is it that, instead of worshipping Aph- 
rodite, like other youths, you are doing homage to the house- 
hold gods of domestic architecture ? ” 

“Why, my dear Max, domestic architecture interests me, 
because I expect to build houses, and lay out grounds. I do 
not worship Aphrodite like other youths, because— because I 
know her not.” 

The elector looked searchingly into Eugene’s solemn eyes. 
“ Are you in earnest ? ” asked he. “ Do you intend me to be- 
lieve that you are unacquainted with the ecstasies and tribula- 
tions of love ? ” 

“No,” replied Eugene, sadly, “for I am too truly your 
friend to deceive you, Max. I have loved, but my love was 
unfortunate ; and the wound it has made in my heart is too 
painful to be probed. Dear friend, let us speak of it never- 
more 1 ” 

“ On the contrary, let us speak of it together without re- 
serve. A hero like Eugene, who has faced death, and so often 
wrested victory from his enemies, can surely contemplate such 
a wound as Cupid’s dart inflicts upon a man ! But tell me, 
what are unfortunate loves ? mine have all been crowned with 
myrtle, and smothered in roses.” 

' Eugene was silent for a time ; then raising his large, melan- 
choly eyes, till they rested affectionately upon the bright, 
laughing countenance of his friend, he spoke : “ I can well be- 
lieve that you know nothing of the pangs inflicted by unhappy 


256 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


love ; for you are handsome, distinguished, and gifted. I, who 
am none of these, can tell you what it is to love adversely. It 
is to love with passion ; to be parted from the object of your 
love ; and not to know whether she, like you, is constant to 
her vows, and suffers from your absence, as you do from hers. 
Pray Heaven that love may never come to you in such a 
shape as this.” 

“ No danger of me contracting the malady,” replied Max ; 
“ I am constitutionally incapable of receiving it. I pluck the 
fruit or flower that grows nearest, never suffering my imagina- 
tion to run away with my longings. But never mind me and 
my sybaritic interpretations of the tender passion. Are your 
woes irremediable ? Is the lady married ? ” 

“ In the eyes of the world she is.” 

“ But not in the eyes of God, you would say. Then her 
marriage must have been compulsory or fraudulent ?” 

“It was fraudulent.” 

“ Then hie we to the pope for justice ! His holiness will 
not refuse it to such a brave crusader as you, and I myself will 
be your advocate. Give me pen and paper. I will write at 
once, send your signature and mine to the petition, and dis- 
patch it by a courier this very day ; and then the world will 
see whether we, who stormed Buda, may not storm adverse 
fortune also. ” 

“ Dear friend, neither the pope nor you can storm my ad- 
verse fortunes. I must hear from my beloved whether she is 
true to me before I take one step to possess myself of her. 
For three years I have waited in vain for her summons ; and 
yet my longing arms are outstretched to clasp her, and never 
while I live will they encircle the form of another ! ” 

“ Nay — these are the enthusiastic ravings of recent disap- 
pointment. For a few years longer you may sorrow for your 
first love ; but oblivion will come, all in good time, and you 
will end by loving some other woman as deserving as your 
absent mistress, and more attainable. After all, ambition, not 
love, is the business of life ; and Cytherea’s groves grow not 
a flower that can compare with the laurels which fame 
places on the brow of the conqueror. It is well for me 
that I am ten years your senior, else I should have been 


TEE FRIENDS. 257 

obliged to come behind you, Eugene, and pick up your cast- 
off leaves.” 

“ The Elector of Bavaria is not a man so easily set aside,” 
was Eugene’s reply. 

“ And yet efforts are continually being made to set him 
aside,” cried the elector, hastily. 

“ Who could be so presuming as to lay his sacrilegious hand 
upon the well-earned laurels of a warrior so distinguished as 
your highness ? ” . 

“ Who ? You know quite as well as I, that it is the Duke 
of Lorraine.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed Eugene, with enthusiasm, “ who can 
compete with him ? He is the greatest man of the age. As 
learned as he is brave ; as prudent as he is resolute ; a wise 
statesman, an unrivalled general ; equally distinguished in the 
cabinet and the field. How fortunate I have been in having 
him for my master in the art of war ! ” 

“You are modest,” said the elector, derisively. “As for 
me, I have no ambition to follow any master in the art of 
war. I wish to carve out my own plans and schemes, and I 
am weary of being subject to the will of the Duke of Lor- 
raine.” 

“ He is commander-in-chief of the army,” urged Eugene. 
“No army can be without a head, to which all its members 
must be subordinate.” 

“ But why must that head be Charles of Lorraine, pray ? ” 

“ You surely would not dream of supplanting Mm ! ” cried 
Eugene. 

“Yes, 1 would ; and I have determined to submit to his 
dictation no longer. If I cannot have a command independ- 
ent of the Duke of Lorraine, I shall withdraw my troops, re- 
main in Bavaria, and leave my father-in-law to fight his own 
battles with the Turks.” 

“ You will do no such thing,” said Eugene, laying his hand 
upon the prince’s shoulder, and looking anxiously into his 
face. “ You will not endanger the great cause for which we 
have fought together by the interference of petty personal 
jealousies. No, Max Emmanuel, you are too magnanimous to 
sacrifice the interests of Christendom to such considerations. 


258 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Moreover, you have gained too much renown as a general, to 
be overshadowed by the reputation of any man.” 

“ I do not know that. I only know that the Duke of Lor- 
raine is in my way, and that for the future he must stand 
aside, or I resign my commission in the imperial army. But 
these are matters of future discussion. We will postpone this 
altercation until the opening of our next campaign. Mean- 
while — do you know what brought me hither this morning ? 
I come to snatch you away from cold contemplation, and in- 
troduce you to society. ” 

“ I have no taste for society,” replied Eugene, shrinking 
from the very thought. “ I love solitude ; and mine is peopled 
with delicious visions of the past, as well as glorious aspira- 
tions for the future.” 

“ Of w T hat nature are your aspirations ? They point to mili- 
tary distinction, I hope. Do they not ? ” 

“ Yes ; and I trust that I shall attain it honorably. Fate 
will assign me my place ; the rest remains for me to do. I 
have too much to learn, to mingle w r ith the world.” 

“Man learns not only through the study of books, but 
through that of human nature,” exclaimed Max Emmanuel ; 
u and you need never hope for greatness unless you gain knowl- 
edge of the world. I have come to entice you away, and I 
will not be refused.” 

“ Whither w T ould you entice me ? ” asked Eugene, smiling. 

“To the paradise of pleasure and of lovely women — to 
Venice ! ” 

Eugene started, and a glow overspread his pale face. “ To 
Venice ! ” echoed he. “ To Venice ! ” 

“Ay, prince — to Venice,” repeated Max Emmanuel. “To 
live over the ‘ Arabian Nights,’ by joining the great carni- 
val.” 

“I have heard that Venice is the seat of all elegance and 
refinement, and that no man who has not graduated in its 
school of gallantry is considered perfect in worldly accom- 
plishments.” 

“ Then you perceive that you, who are so ambitious, must 
go with me to Venice to receive your diploma as a gallant. 
My heart beats with joyful impatience as I think of the de- 


THE FRIENDS. 


259 


lights that await us. The carnival is to be unusually brilliant 
this year. The Prince of Hanover, the Margraves of Baireuth 
and of Baden, the brave commander-in-chief of the republican 
armies, Morosini, and Admirals Molino and Delphini, are all 
to be there. Morosini himself has written me an invitation to 
the carnival, and you must accompany me.” 

“ No, your highness,” replied Eugene, seriously. “ I have 
not been invited ; there is therefore no reason why I should 
go.” 

“ But if I tell you that I will consider it as a proof of your 
friendship,” persisted the elector, “ then I hope you will no 
longer refuse me. Indeed, you would do me the greatest 
favor.” 

“ How could it possibly be a favor ? ” asked Eugene. 

“ I will tell you how. I am impulsive and easily led away : 
your principles are firm as a rock. I have known you for 
three years, and have closely observed your character, Eugene. 
You are sensible, honorable, and independent ; you are re- 
served, yet sincere — brave, yet discreet. You are more than 
all this — you are an honest man, rejoicing in the fame of 
others, and never blind to worth because of envy or longing 
for notoriety.” 

“ My dear, dear friend,” interrupted Eugene, “ you overrate 
me beyond — ” 

“No, I do not overrate you,” was the elector’s reply. “I 
appreciate you — that is all ; and I want you for a counsellor. 
You know how a reigning prince is surrounded by flatterers ; 
how his follies are heralded to the world as virtues ; and, 
above all, you know how many snares are spread for such a 
gilded butterfly by artful women, who long, not only for his 
heart, but for his gold ; above all, when he calls himself a 
prince, and is the son-in-law of an emperor.” 

“You have a poor opinion of women.” smiled Eugene. 

“They have given me no reason to think well of them. 
I know the whole sex to be fickle, coquettish, and heartless ; 
and yet I am forever being led astray by their siren voices. 
And when the wicked enchantresses smile and swear that they 
love me, I am ravished— albeit, I know that every word they 
utter is a lie.” 


260 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“You mean when they smiled and swore, I presume,” said 
Eugene ; “ for such delusions must have ended with your mar- 
riage. The husband of the beautiful Archduchess Antonia 
need not fear the wiles of Phryne or Lais.” 

“ Pardon me,” replied the elector, with a woe-begone ex- 
pression of countenance, “ they have become doubly danger- 
ous, since they are forbidden fruit. I never was intended to 
be a model of conjugal fidelity, and my heart beats fearfully 
when I think of the starry eyes, the raven hair, the pearly 
cheeks of the fair women of Venice ! I have very little confi- 
dence in my own valor, if I have to meet them single-handed. 
Do, Eugene, come with me ; let us be companions-in-pleasure 
as* we have been companions-in-arms. I depend upon you to 
fortify my virtue in the hour of need.” 

“ Your true and loving friend I am and will he ever,” re- 
plied Eugene ; “ hut do not ask me to go to Venice. I am too 
poor to go thither in such distinguished companionship.” 

“ It is understood that you go as my guest ; there can then 
be no question of riches or poverty. I have engaged a palace 
for me and my suite ; my household are already there, and you 
have nothing to do but to make yourself at home. Every 
thing I possess is at my friend’s disposal.” 

“Which means that your highness considers me as one of 
your suite, and perchance intends to supply me with pocket- 
money ? ” said Eugene, proudly. 

“ Nay, Eugene,” replied the elector, offering his hand, “ I 
meant nothing that could offend my friend. I meant that he 
should share with me as a brother whatever I possess. 

“ There are two things, your highness, which no man can 
share with another. One is his mistress, the other his honor. 
I am poor, and therefore I cannot share with you your advan- 
tages of .fortune ; I am obscure, and scorn to shine by the bor- 
rowed light of your highness’s exalted station. Sooner would 
I dwell in a cottage than in a palace at another man’s expense.” 

Max Emmanuel had at first regarded Eugene with unmixed 
astonishment ; then the expression of his handsome face had 
changed to one of admiration and tenderness. As the prince 
ceased, the elector rose from his chair, and took both his 
friend’s hands. 


THE FRIENDS. 


261 


• 

“You are, indeed, one of Nature’s noblemen,” continued he, 
affectionately. u Your view of this matter is, as usual, ex- 
ceptional ; but it is the highest view that can be taken of such 
an offer ; and, although I am the loser thereby, I honor you 
for the refusal. I must then renounce the pleasure 1 had 
promised myself of having your company to Venice,” added 
the elector, with a sigh. 

“ Perhaps not,” returned Eugene. “ Any thing on earth I 
would do to prove you my friendship ; and I may go to 
Venice, not for the sake of its beautiful women, but for the 
pleasure of bearing you company.” 

“ Thank you for that ‘ may,’ Eugene. But let your decision 
be a speedy one, I implore you ; for I long to quit a court that 
bristles with so many tiresome Spanish formalities. I would 
be glad to start to-morrow, but I will wait for you. How long 
must I wait ? ” 

kt Only until my secretary returns from Turin. I expect 
him to-day.” 

“ So much the better. Let me hear from you as soon as 
possible.” 

“I will.” 

The elector rose and took his leave, while Eugene returned 
to his escritoire, and tried to resume his occupation. But his 
thoughts were straying to Venice, and his hand lay listless 
on the paper. 

“ To Venice ! ” murmured he. “ To Venice — perchance to 
Laura ! ” 

As he pronounced her name, he broke into one wild ejacu- 
lation of joy. 

“ See her ? Oh, yes ! ” cried he, passionately. “ Gaze into 
my Laura’s eyes, I must— should the sight cost me my life ! 
But — no ! ” faltered he, suddenly. “ I must not see her. She 
has forgotten me ; and perhaps at this very hour, when my 
heart throbs to bursting at the thought of meeting her again, 
she jests with her husband at the silly episode of her foolish 
fancy for me ! Perhaps she rejoices at her escape from alli- 
ance with the disgraced family of the De Soissons, and blesses 
Heaven for — peace, doubting heart ! I will believe— I will 
hope— Laura, my Laura.— Ah, Conrad, are you here at last ? ” 


262 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


And Eugene, springing from his seat, clasped Conrad’s 
hands within his own. 

“Yes, your highness,” replied Conrad, his face beaming 
with joy to see his dear lord. “ I have just alighted, and must 
apologize for my dusty garb. I did not stop to change my 
dress.” 

“You were right— quite right, and it needs no apology. 
Tell me the result of your mission. Did you speak with the 
Duke of Savoy in person ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness, he was so kind as to grant me two 
audiences. I related to him the entire history of your em- 
barrassments, and their cause. I told him of the sequestration 
of your estates by the covetous King of France, and of the 
debts which this act of injustice had compelled you to leave in 
Paris. He asked me what was your pay as colonel in the 
Austrian service. I told him that the pay was fluctuating as 
to amount, and uncertain as to receipt ; but at its maximum it 
might reach the sum of ten thousand florins a year. Upon 
this, he said: ‘Ten thousand florins a year to maintain a 
prince of the house of Savoy, and one of the most distinguished 
officers in the imperial service ! Well may he be straitened 
in purse ! ’ Then I took courage, and told his highness that 
you could not possibly live on less than fifteen thousand 
florins, and that you appealed to him to assist you in maintain- 
ing the dignity of the ducal house of Savoy, and saving its 
representatives from absolute penury.” 

“ And what was the answer ? ” 

“ He requested me to return the next day, which I did. I 
was most kindly received, and his highness said that he hoped 
he had found a remedy for your embarrassments, my lord. 
Although forbidden by the laws of Savoy to pay a salary to 
any man not in the service of his own dukedom, he would be 
happy to assist your highness from his own privy purse, until 
he had arranged matters in a manner more satisfactory and 
more secure. Prince Antony of Savoy, who is in a dying con- 
dition, possesses the revenues of five abbeys, which his high- 
ness of Savoy hopes to have transferred to your highness, thus 
securing to you a fixed and certain income, not subject to the 
sequestrations of the King of France.” 


THE FRIENDS. 


263 


“ He wrote no letter ? ” 

“ No, your highness. The duke gave me four rouleaux of 
three hundred ducats each for present need, and bade me take 
them as his answer to your highness’s letter.” 

Eugene smiled. “ Therein I recognize my prudent cousin, 
who dares not trust his promises to writing. But I thank him 
for his golden answer. How much did you say you brought, 
Conrad ? ” 

‘‘ Twelve hundred ducats, my lord, which will cover all ex- 
penses until the opening of the spring campaign, when your 
pay is due.” 

“ But, my dear Conrad, you forget that we have debts to 
pay. And, by-the-by, what news do you bring from Paris ? ” 

“ Your highness’s creditors there were so astounded at the 
prospect of being paid, that I almost regretted to be obliged to 
disturb the tranquillity with which they had accepted their 
losses. They were so grateful that they bade me say they 
would be perfectly satisfied with yearly instalments of any 
amount your highness would be pleased to pay. So I made 
arrangements to close your whole indebtedness at the end of 
three years.” 

“ A long time for those poor fellows to wait for their dues,” 
said Eugene, shaking his head. “ Conrad, if we obtain the 
transfer of those abbey revenues, the first sum we receive 
therefrom goes to my creditors in Paris. Remember that.” * 

“ I shall be very sure to remember it, my lord ; for it will 
be an occasion of rejoicing to many an honest tradesman, each 
one of whom will bless your highness’s magnanimity.” 

“ Magnanimity ! I call it bare justice ! ” said Eugene. 
“ Give me the memoranda.” 

Conrad presented the package, which his lord opened, ex- 
amining each account until he had seen all. 

“ I miss one account here which I would gladly pay,” said 
he, with some embarrassment. 

“ The account of Monsieur Louis ? ” was Conrad’s prompt 
reply. 

* The payment of Prinee Eugene’s debts was regarded as something ultra- 
honorable by the people of Paris, and the Duchess Elizabeth-Charlotte speaks 
of it in her letters as a noble action.— See “ Letters of Elizabeth-Charlotte.” 


26 ± 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Eugene made a motion of assent, while Conrad continued : 

“My lord,” said he, averting bis eyes from the prince, “1 
went to Monsieur Louis, as I did to your other creditors. He 
said that he could not accept payment for decorations which 
had never been completed. He would always hold sacred the 
remembrance of the day when your highness fell insensible 
upon a heap of garlands that were to have ornamented your 
reception-rooms, and lie had been near to lift you in his arms. 
He told me this with tears in his eyes, my lord ; pardon me if 
I have awakened painful reminiscences by the recital ; hut he 
begged me to convey his message, and I felt bound to comply.” 

For some moments Eugene kept silence. After a pause, dur- 
ing which Conrad dared not meet his eye, the prince replied : 

“ Conrad,” said he, “ if I should ever afford to have a 
princely retinue again, I will take Monsieur Louis into my 
service. At all events, if I ever build a house, he shall deco- 
rate it, and shall be well paid for his work. — And now to other 
things. Did you see her highness the Duchess of Orleans ? ” 

“Yes, my lord. Her highness was walking in the park 
when your letter was handed to her. She sent for me at once, 
and received me in the little pavilion.” 

“The pavilion ! The pavilion ! Go on.” 

“ She inquired minutely as to your health, prospects, and 
condition. She asked if you were cheerful. I told her that 
you were always in high spirits on the day of a battle. Then 
she would have me relate to her the dangers you had incurred, 
spoke of her grief at hearing you had been wounded, and 
seemed never to tire of your praises. Then she sat down and 
begged me to wait until she wrote you a short letter. Here it 

is, my lord.” 

Eugene broke the seal ; then, as if ashamed of the emotion 
that was welling up from his agitated heart, he looked at Con- 
rad, who understood the appeal, and withdrew. 

As the letter was opened, a small bit of paper fell from its 
folds, and fluttered to the carpet. Eugene, without observing 

it, began to read his letter. It ran thus : 

“ I cannot refrain from sending you a greeting in my own 
hand. My dear prince, I hold you in affectionate remem- 


THE FRIENDS. 


265 


brance ; let me hope that you have not forgotten me. Every 
thing remains here as when you left ; false, frivolous, and, to 
me, as antagonistic as of erst. I have never been happy since 
she was so cruelly forced away from my protection. I have 
had news of her. My daughter, who lives in Turin, made a 
visit to Venice lately. I had begged her, if possible, to give 

me tidings of , and to give her my hearty love. They met 

for a moment, when she pressed into my daughter’s hand a 
little note for me. I opened it, but it contained only the slip of 
paper I enclose. Be assured of my sincere and constant friend- 
ship. Elizabeth-Charlotte.” 

“ The paper ! the paper ! ” exclaimed Eugene, as, with 
trembling hands, he opened the sheet, and found nothing 
within. “ Great God ! the duchess has forgotten to enclose it, 
and I must away to Paris, this night, this very — ” 

Just then his eyes rested on the carpet, and there at his feet 
lay the treasured paper. It contained these words : 

“ I am a prisoner — watched day and night. Have you, too, 
forgotten me ? I cannot believe it ; and, after three long years 
of silence and of suffering, I still await your coming.” 

As Eugene read these tender words, he sank on his knees, 
and pressed the paper to his lips. “ Forgive me, my Laura,” 
murmured he. “ I was weak in faith, and unworthy of you. 
But I will love you all the more for my injustice. I come ! 
I come ! ” 

He rose from his knees, calling for Conrad, who was in 
the antechamber, awaiting a summons to return. Great was 
his astonishment when he beheld Eugene advancing toward 
him, his lips parted with a happy smile, his eyes beaming with 
animation, his whole bearing transformed. What could it 
mean ? 

“ Conrad,” cried he, and his very voice had a joyful peal, 
like the chime of marriage-bells— “ Conrad, we must leave 
Vienna this evening. Let everything be in readiness. If we 
have-not gold enough with our cousin’s ducats, borrow more ; 
but be ready to go with me at once. Stay— I had almost 
forgotten. Go to the palace ; see the chamberlain of his 
highness the Elector of Bavaria, and tell him to announce to 
18 


266 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the prince that Prince Eugene of Savoy leaves this evening 
for Venice. That is all. Make haste, Conrad ! Away with 
you, and fly back as soon as possible, for I tell you that we 
must be on our road before night ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 

The Marquis Strozzi was alone in his cabinet, pacing the 
room with clouded brow and compressed lips. Now and then 
he stopped before the window which opened on a balcony 
overlooking the Canale Grande ; and the sight of the gayly- 
decked gondolas that shot hither and thither with their freight 
of youth and youthful glee, seemed to intensify his discontent, 
and rouse him to positive anger. 

“They are shouting their stupid welcome to these foreign 
princes,” muttered he, “ and presently she will be attracted by 
the sound, and seek to know what it means. My God ! ” ejacu- 
lated he, striking his forehead, “ this love is the curse of my 
life. It will drive me to madness, and yet — and yet I cannot 
overcome it. To work, then, to work ! I must increase my 
number of spies.” 

In the centre of the room, on a table of Florentine mosaic, 
lay a little golden hell, fashioned by the master-hand of Ben- 
venuto Cellini. The marquis rang it gently, and, before he 
had replaced it, a secret door in the wall slided back, giving 
entrance to a masked figure, enveloped in a long black cloak. 

Strozzi surveyed him for a moment, then, throwing himself 
upon a divan, he was lost in contemplation of the frescoes by 
Paul Veronese, which decorated the ceiling of this luxurious 
apartment. Meanwhile the mask had carefully closed the 
door, and stood respectfully silent. 

Finally Strozzi condescended to speak. “Take off your 
mask.” The man obeyed, and Strozzi gazed upon a sinister 
face, disfigured by a long, purple scar, which reached from the 
left temple to the chin. 


THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 


267 


“ Do you know,” continued the marquis, 11 that if you were 
to appear unmasked in the market-place, every child in Venice 
would recognize you, Antonio ? ” 

“Yes, excellenza,” was the humble reply. 

“ How did you come by that scar ? ” sneered the patrician. 

Antonio moved impatiently, and glanced imploringly at 
the marquis. 

The latter merely repeated the question. 

Antonio heaved a sigh, and his head dropped to his breast. 

“ It was inflicted by my father,” murmured he, almost in- 
audibly. 

“ Speak louder,” said Strozzi. “ Why did he inflict it ? ” 

The man’s eyes shot fire, but he dared not remonstrate. 
His glance fell before the cold glitter of Strozzi’s black orbs, 
as he muttered in reply, “I was trying to get at his money, 
when he rushed in upon me, and gashed my face with a dag- 
ger.” 

“ Upon which you plunged your poniard into his throat, 
and made an end of your respectable parent on the spot.” 

“ Excellenza,” cried Antonio, in tones of deep emotion, “ I 
had hut raised it to ward off the blow, when my father rushed 
upon it, and so met his fate.” 

The marquis laughed. “ Rushed upon it— did he ? Of 
course you are an innocent lamb of a parricide, and the judg- 
ment passed upon your act was a most iniquitous one. It was 
doubtless a shame that you were publicly maimed, and then 
led back to prison to await your execution. Possibly you may 
remember the night that followed your punishment, when a 
priest entered your cell, and, on condition that you paid him 
implicit obedience for five years, offered you life and the release 
of your paramour — the woman for whose sake you murdered 
your father.” 

“ Poor Caterina ! ” sighed Antonio. “ To think that, for the 
life of a babe not a day old, she should he imprisoned for five 
years ! ” 

“ Why, then, did she murder it ?” asked Strozzi. 

“ To save herself from the vengeance of her husband, ex- 
cellenza. But I— I have kept my word, and have served you 
faithfully, have I not ? ” 


268 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Yes— you are a tolerably submissive bound, *’ said Strozzi, 
scornfully. “ How long before your bondage ceases ? ” 

“Excellenza, it was in January, 1683, that you appeared to 
me in the dress of a priest, and saved me from the headsman. 
I owe you still one year, one month, and twenty-six days of 
service.” 

“You are accurate — very; but mark me ! If you fail in 
the least point, the contract is null. I neither release your 
Caterina nor you.” 

“ I am your slave, and have no will but yours.” 

“ ’Tis well. What have you learned to-day ? ” 

“As regards the gracious marchioness, but little. She 
drew, played on her harp, and embroidered, as usual, and wrote 
a letter, which she committed to the hands of that demoiseHe 
Yictorine, who gives out that she was sent to her ladyship by 
her friend the Duchess of Orleans.” 

“ I know — I know. Where is the letter ? ” 

“Here it is, excellenza.” 

The marquis examined the seal, to see that it had not been 
tampered with by his underlings. “ Any thing further ? ” 
added he, raising his eyes to Antonio’s woe-begone face. 

“Very little, excellenza. The signora went twice to the 
balcony to look at the gondolas, Mademoiselle Victorine watch- 
ing her from within. The second time she went, she clasped 
her hands all of a sudden, blushed, and leaned so far over the 
balustrade that mademoiselle made sure that there was some- 
thing unusual on the canal. Pretending that she had some 
question to ask as to the signora’s dress, she followed, but the 
signora was so absorbed in what she saw, that she did not re- 
mark her tire- woman.” 

“What was it?” asked Strozzi, breathless with expecta- 
tion. 

“ The Canale Grande was so crowded with splendid gon- 
dolas that it was hard to say what had attracted the marchion- 
ess’s attention. But after a moment or two of waiting, Made- 
moiselle Victorine saw that one of the gondolas was stationary 
just opposite to the palace.” 

“ Whose gondola ? Who was in it ? ” cried Strozzi, imperi- 
ously. 


THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 


269 


“ Besides the gondoliers, the gondola contained a young 
man, so simply dressed, that he could not have been anybody 
of distinction, for he wore a brown doublet with plain buttons. 
Mademoiselle concluded that the lying-to of the gondola was 
accidental ; he was too insignificant to have interested the sig- 
nora.” 

W hat do you think ? ” asked Strozzi, eying him search- 
ingly. 

“ I think it was. premeditated, but I will soon find out.” 

•‘What steps have you taken to — ? But no! — goon — go 
on. What took place afterward ? ” 

“ Nothing, excellenza ; for after this gondola, came that of 
my lord the marquis, and the signora retreated hastily to her 
room.” 

“ Ah !— Now tell me what you have done ? ” 

u I posted one of my men, with his gondola, under the bal- 
cony. He is to remain there, watching every gondola that 
passes both by day and by night. I have stationed men at 
every entrance of the palace, who are to give admittance to all 
who present themselves ; but who are to require the names and 
business of all who leave. Even those who are in your ex- 
cellency’s pay are to be searched — for example, Mademoiselle 
Victorine.” 

“ You are a well-trained dog,” laughed Strozzi. “ I really 
believe that I will have to set you and your child-murderess 
free, some of these days. Go, now, and bring me word who 
was in that gondola.” 

Antonio resumed his mask, and disappeared through the 
door, which closed, and left no trace upon the wall. 

At this moment, there was a knock at the door of the 
antechamber, and a woman’s voice was heard, asking admis- 
sion. 

“ Lucretia ! ” said Strozzi, rising and undoing the bolt. 

A lady entered the room. She was enveloped from head 
to foot in a veil of costly Venetian guipure, fastened to the 
braids of her raven-black hair by two large brilliants. Her 
face had been concealed by the veil, but, as the door closed 
behind her, she threw it back, and exposed to view a counte- 
nance of remarkable beauty. 


270 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Look at me, Ottario,” said she. “ Tell me candidly — am 
I handsome enough to bewitch our guests, those princely hears 
of Germany ? ” 

The marquis surveyed her critically, just as a painter might 
examine a fine picture. He looked at her pale, pearly skin, 
her scarlet lips, her delicately-chiselled nose, and her low, wide 
forehead, so like that of the Capitoline Venus. Then he gazed 
into her dark, flashing eyes, at once so languishing and so pas- 
sionate, with the beautiful arched eyebrows that gave such fin- 
ish to their splendor. The black hair, like a frame of ebony, 
surrounded the face, and brought out the graceful oval of her 
cheeks. Strozzi then followed the luxurious outline of her 
well -developed bust, prisoned in a bodice of blue velvet, which 
rested on her white shoulders like an azure cloud upon the 
bosom of a snowy mountain-peak. The skirt, also of blue vel- 
vet, was short in front, that it might not conceal a fairy foot 
encased in blue satin slippers ; but, behind, it fell in a long 
train, whose rich folds lay on the carpet, perfecting the grace 
and elegance of the beautiful living picture. 

“ You are certainly charming,” said Strozzi, at last — “ quite 
charming enough to bewitch a dozen German princes, suppos- 
ing your husband to offer no impediment to the spell.” 

Here she drew out a fan of coral and gold, and, opening it 
with a snap, began to fan herself. “ Caro amico,” said she, 
“ you speak as if you were ignorant of the character and vir- 
tues of Count Canossa, when you yourself are the very trades- 
man that sold me to him.” 

“You use very strong expressions, Lucretia.” 

“Do I? Not stronger than are warranted by the transac- 
tion. You sold me to him to rid yourself of your mother’s 
dying charge, and you did it, although you knew him to be a 
man so depraved that nothing on earth was sacred in his eyes 
—not even the virtue of his wife.” 

“ Why, that,” replied the marquis significantly, “ is so much 
the better for you.” 

“ You mean that otherwise he would not have married me ?” 
asked Lucretia. 

“ I mean that he would have examined more carefully into 
the truth of the rumor which accused the sister of the Strozzi 


X 


THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 


271 


of having a liaison with a gondolier ; of having fled with him 
to Padua, and of having been caught and brought back to 
Venice, while her patrician lover was sent to the galleys.” 

“I wish he had done so,” was the reply, “ and then you 
would have been compelled to save my honor by allowing me 
to marry Giuseppe. Do not laugh so heartlessly, Ottario. I 
loved him not only because of his manly beauty, but because 
he was honorable and worthy of a woman’s purest love. His 
only fault was that of having loved me. You sent him to the 
galleys ; and I — I, too, have been condemned to the galleys, 
and chained to a felon for life. Well I know that he covered 
my indiscretions with his name for a stipulated sum, which 
my generous brother paid to save my reputation, and he gam- 
bled it away before the expiration of a year. Our palace re- 
sembles a ship that has been visited by corsairs. It contains 
nothing but a pile of lumber, for which not even a pawnbroker 
would give a bajocco. W ere it not for your alms, the Countess 
Canossa would starve.” 

“Alms, call you my gifts?” said Strozzi, casting his eyes 
over her rich toilet. “They dress you up handsomely, me- 
thinks.” 

“But there they end,” objected the countess. “I have 
neither lackeys nor diamonds, neither gondola nor gondolier, 
and my saloons are so shabby that I can receive no company 
at home. You give me as little as decency permits.” 

“If I gave you diamonds, our dear Canossa w r ould steal 
them ; and if I furnished your parlors, he would gamble away 
the furniture in a night.” 

“ You know the worth of the husband you selected for 
your mother’s child, and doubtless you had your own private 
feasons for sacrificing her to such a man. His worthlessness, 
uoo, furnishes an excuse for your niggardly allowance to me. 
The very dresses I wear are the price of dishonor. I often feel 
ashamed of the part I play toward your wife, Ottario, and I 
know not but some day I may throw myself at her feet and 
acknowledge my treachery.” 

“ If you do, your acknowledgment will be forthwith con- 
veyed to my ears, and the doors of the palace Strozzi will be 
closed to you forever.” 


272 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I know it,” sighed the countess ; “ and the fear of this ex- 
pulsion binds me to your wicked will.” 

“ Never mind what hinds you, so you serve with fidelity ; 
and, above all things, I charge you to be watchful during the 
coming week. I will not be able to keep my wife much 
longer from participation in the social pleasures of Ven- 
ice.” 

“ Why not ? You have spread a report of her insanity, and 
nobody will ever give a thought to her absence.” 

“But she may desire to witness the carnival herself.” 

“ How so ? when she has invariably refused to be presented 
to any one as your wife ? ” 

“ She might change her mind, and claim her right to be 
presented to the doge and dogessa. She may wish to take part 
in the carnival, because of a fancy for some foreign prince ! — 
Great God ! when I think of such a possibility,” cried Strozzi, 
interrupting himself, “I feel as though I were going mad for 
jealousy ! ” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Lucretia, “ I pity you. You live with 
a perpetual dagger in your heart.” 

“ And it will kill me unless you are loyal to your office, 
Lucretia. Promise me to watch this woman closely. Lis- 
ten to me. — She may wish to go out, and if she does, it 
is quite natural that you, as well as I, should accompany 
her. Swear that wheresoever you may be together, you 
will not for one moment quit her side, or take your eyes off 
her person.” 

“ For what do you take me, pray ? Do you suppose that I 
attend the carnival to yawn at the side of your wife ? or do 
you imagine that such eyes as mine were made for nothing 
better than to stare at a woman ? ” 

“ You will have as much opportunity as you can desire to 
use them to your own advantage, Lucretia, for Laura will not 
go out often. ” 

“ What will you give me in return for my self-denial ? ” 

“ If the carnival passes off without misadventure, I will buy 
you a splendid gondola, with two gondoliers dressed all in 
silk.” 

“ Give them to me now, and if I neglect my duty, then take 


THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 273 

them back. But do — do give them to me to use during the 
carnival.” 

“Very well, you shall have them to-morrow morning. 
And you swear that my wife shall neither give her hand nor 
speak to any man in Venice, and that you will report her very 
glances to me ? ” 

“I swear to guard your golden apple like a good dragon. 
And to-morrow I shall join the great regatta,” added she, 
clapping her hands like a petted child. “ Now, Ottario, listen 
to me — I have just come from your wife’s apartments with 
news for you.” 

“ What is it ? ” gasped Strozzi, clutching at the arms of his 
chair. 

“ The beautiful Laura is no longer the cold vestal that came 
to Venice as your wife. Her eye is bright, her cheek is flushed, 
her lips are parted with womanly longing. I congratulate 
you upon the change. Your love has at last awakened a cor- 
responding sentiment, and now is your time to woo and win. 
I came hither to tell you this and make you happy. Do not 
forget my gondola ! Addio, caro amico, addio ! ” 

She kissed the tips of her rosy fingers, and then, coquettisli- 
lv drawing her veil around her shoulders, she bounded off like 
a gazelle, through the corridors of the palace. 

“ I wish I had your frivolity,” murmured her brother, sink- 
ing back upon the cushions of his divan. “ I would that love, 
for me, were hut the episode of the hour ! — But hark !— twelve 
o’clock — the hour for my visit to her who is at once the bless- 
ing and the curse of my life S ” 

He was about to quit the room, when he heard a rustling 
at the secret door. “ Come in,” said he, and the mask re-en- 
tered the room. 

“ You, Antonio ! Already returned ? ” asked Strozzi, sur- 
prised. 

“Yes, excellenza. I know the name of the young man 
in the gondola which stopped before the palace this morn- 
ing.” 

Strozzi was too much agitated to speak. He signed to the 
man to go on. 

“ It was Prince Eugene of Savoy. He arrived in Venice 


271 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


yesterday, and has taken the little Palazzo Capello, next to the 
Palazzo Manfredino, which since this morning is occupied by 
the Elector of Bavaria.” 

Strozzi was now as pale as a corpse ; his brow darkened, 
and his limbs trembled so that he was obliged to sit down. He 
mastered his agitation as well as he could, and resumed his 
questionings. 

“ You are quite sure, Antonio ? ” 

‘‘ Perfectly sure, excellenza.” 

“ And yet the Prince of Savoy is not among the invited ? ” 

“ He came alone. The Marquis de Villars had rented the 
Palazzo Capello for himself, but he has given it up to Prince 
Eugene, and has accepted the invitation of the elector to occu- 
py a suite on the ground floor of the Palazzo Manfredino. The 
Prince of Savoy and the elector are intimate friends ; for no 
sooner had the former arrived, than he left his address at the 
Palazzo Manfredino ; and the latter had not been here an hour 
before he was at the hotel of the White Lion, where Prince 
Eugene had taken lodgings. By noon, the elector had obtained 
the relinquishment of the Palazzo Capello for the prince, and 
the Marquis de Villars had taken up his quarters at the Pa- 
lazzo Manfredino.” 

“ From whom did you learn all these details ? ” 

“From one of the gondoliers that rowed Prince Eugene 
this morning, my half-brother Beppo. ‘ Whither shall I row 
you, excellenza ? ’ asked he. ‘Anywhere,’ said the prince, in 
excellent Italian, ‘but take me to see your famous palaces.’ 
‘The Foscari, for example ?’ inquired Beppo. ‘Yes, and the 
Strozzi, which, I am told, is one of the finest residences in 
Venice.’ So they rowed to the Strozzi palace, and there the 
prince bade Beppo stop for ever so long a time. The prince 
will spend the entire carnival here. He has bought a gondola, 
and his secretary is on the lookout for gondoliers, an Italian 
valet, and a commissionnaire.” 

“You will offer yourself as his commissionnaire, then,” 
said Strozzi, with a sinister scowl. “ And be sure you get the 
place — do you hear ? ” 

Antonio bowed, and the marquis continued: “In fifteen 
minutes return to me, and meanwhile — begone !” 


LAURA. 


275 


Without a word of reply Antonio disappeared ; Strozzi 
pressed down into the wall the spring by which the door was 
opened, and then, taking up his plumed hat, betook himself 
to the apartments of his wife. 


CHAPTER IV. 

LAURA. 

She lay half buried in the yellow satin cushions of a soft 
ottoman. Her large, dreamy eyes were fixed upon the ceiling, 
whereon groups of flying Cupids were pelting one another 
with roses. Her lips were parted with a happy smile, her fair 
brow was serene and cloudless, and her cheeks were tinged 
with a faint flush like that of the rose that is kissed by the first 
beams of the rising sun. She was the same beautiful, spirited, 
hopeful being that had lived and loved in the pavilion of the 
Palais Royal. 

She lay dreaming and smiling, smiling and dreaming, 
when the velvet portiere that opened into her boudoir was 
drawn aside to give entrance to the Marquis de Strozzi. Yes- 
terday his visit had been a martyrdom to Laura ; to-day she 
was indifferent to it : she was far beyond its influence, nor did 
she acknowledge it by so much as a glance. 

But when he stood directly before her, and would have 
stooped to kiss her hand, she withdrew it with a gesture of 
aversion, although her countenance yet beamed with happi- 
ness. 

The marquis saw that she was excited, and he frowned. 
“You seem in good spirits to-day, Marchioness de Strozzi,” 
said he, moodily. 

“I am indeed in good spirits when I can endure your pres- 
ence with tranquillity, nor start at the sound of a title which 
is not mine. I am not the Marchioness de Strozzi.” 

“ I do not know how that can be, when you are indubitably 
my wedded wife.” 

“ No, no, I am no wedded wife of yours, nor am I bound to 


276 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


you by the lying vows that gave me into your keeping. For 
three years, I have endeavored to make you understand this, 
but you are singularly obtuse.” 

“ I can never be made to understand that the woman who, 
in presence of her father and brother, promised to be unto me 
a faithful wife, is not my true and lawful spouse.” 

“ My vows were not for you ; they were made to another.” 

44 Nay — I can show your signature to the contract, and the 
pope himself cannot undo our marriage.” 

“ Our marriage ! ” exclaimed she, haughtily. “ There is no 
marriage between you and me, and be assured that there never 
will be. I would sooner die than become your wife. Hear 
me,” continued she, passionately. “ If I thought that I was 
indeed bound to you, I would — ay ! I believe that I would 
commit the crime of suicide. Could you convince me that the 
hand which received your accursed ring was indeed yours, I 
would gather up all my strength of hate to strike it off, and 
dash it in your face.” 

“ Great God ! And I love you to madness ! ” cried he, 
throwing himself on his knees, and clasping her hands so con- 
vulsively that all her writhings could not release them. “ I 
love you, I love you, and am doomed to love you, albeit your 
cruelty is driving me to madness ! ” 

“ ’Tis the punishment of your crime toward me,” answered 
Laura, coldly. “You have sinned against love, and God has 
punished you through love that shall be forever unrequited. 
Accept your fate, and be resigned.” 

“ I cannot do it, Laura, I cannot do it ! My love for you 
is like a deadly poison that sets my blood on fire. It must be 
requited, or I shall die a maniac. Oh, have pity ! have pity ! ” 

“ Pity for you l ” said she, contemptuously. 

“ Look at me,” cried he, imploringly. “ For once in your 
life, Laura, turn your eyes upon me without hate, and see how 
love has corroded my very life. Three years ago I was a 
happy man — to-day I am not yet thirty, and my hair is gray, 
and my face wrinkled. Life has no charms for me, and yet I 
am too cowardly to die, and leave you to another. Oh, Laura, 
look at me, and be merciful ! Deliver me from the hell in 
which your hatred has plunged me ! ” 


LAURA. 


277 


“Nay — your sufferings are the purgatorial fires whereby 
you may perchance be purified from the guilt of your treach- 
ery toward an innocent girl. Marquis de Strozzi, now look at 
me. Am I, too, changed since three years of misery unspeak- 
able?” 

“ No,” sighed he, “ you are as beautiful and youthful as you 
were when first I saw you in Paris.” 

“ You are right,” replied she. “ I am altered neither in ap- 
pearance nor in heart. And do you know why ? It is because 
Hope — bright-eyed Hope has sat day and night by my side, 
whispering sweet words of encouragement, bidding me be firm ; 
imparting to me strength to endure the present, and to enjoy 
the future. I feel it in my soul that he will come sooner or 
later to liberate me from my bondage.” 

“ If he ever comes, I will murder him ! ” hissed Strozzi. 

“ You will try, but you will not succeed. God protects him^ 
and he wears the invisible armor of my love to shield him 
from your hate.” 

“ Very well. Pray for him if you will ; but, as sure as I 
live, I will find his vulnerable heel !” 

As he said this, Laura turned pale, and Strozzi remarked 
her pallor with a malicious pleasure. “ Ah ! your faith is not 
strong ! My poisoned arrows will find the flaw, and upon him 
shall be avenged every pang that you have inflicted upon my 
bleeding heart. You know that he is here — I see it by your 
altered demeanor.” 

“Yes, yes, I know it.” 

“ Be not too overjoyed thereat ; for the daggers of my 
bravoes are keen and sure, and the lagoons are deep, and give 
not up their dead.” 

“You would not sully your soul with secret murder !” ex- 
claimed Laura, shuddering. 

“ That would I. He is my rival, and he shall be put out of 
my way — that is all.” 

“ No— that is not all. You dare not murder a prince, a hero 
upon whom the eyes of all Europe are fixed in admiration. 
Such a man as he is not to be put out of the way with impunity. 
Were you to murder Eugene of Savoy, know that I myself 
would be your accuser ; and your uncle, the doge himself, is 


278 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


not powerful enough to save your head from the execu- 
tioner.” 

“ What care I for the executioner’s axe, who for three years 
have been stretched upon the rack of your aversion ? So I 
make sure that he has gone before me — so I have the sweet re- 
venge of sending him to Tartarus, what care I how soon I fol- 
low him thither ? ” 

“ You are a monster ! ” exclaimed Laura. 

“ I am the work of your hands,” replied Strozzi. “ If I am 
a monster, my perdition be upon your head. And now, mark 
me ! I came hither to have one decisive interview with you. 
Prince Eugene is in Venice ; you are aware of it, for you sent 
him a greeting from your balcony this morning, as his gon- 
dola lay in front of the palace.” 

“ Your spies are vigilant,” said she. 

“ Yes, they serve me well, and they are ubiquitous. They 
mark each smile and report every tear that tells of silent joy 
or grief upon your face. They are with you when you pray ; 
they watch you while you sleep, so that your very dreams are 
not your own. Now you are my wife, howsoever you may 
protest against the name, and you shall not sully that name, 
be assured of it. If, by word or look, by movement or sign, 
you allow Prince Eugene to suppose that you recognize him, 
he shall expiate your disobedience to my will by death. I am 
afraid that you do not believe me ; you think that I make a 
mere threat to terrify you into submission. Is it so ? ” 

“ Yes, marquis, it is so. You are treacherous and cruel ; but, 
abhor you as I may for the misery you have inflicted upon me, 
I do believe you to be one degree above a bravo. You are not 
a coward — you would not consent to be an assassin.” 

“You flatter your keeper, that you may disarm him.” 

“ No ; I speak the truth. I hate, but do not despise you to 
such a degree as to believe your threats.” 

“ So much the worse for you. I would enjoy the privilege 
of plunging a dagger into his heart with my own hands ; but 
I must deny myself that satisfaction. It is safer to employ a 
bravo, and to pay him. You know how dearly I loved my 
mother, do you not ? ” 

“Yes, I have heard of it from your sister.” 


LAURA. 


279 


“Well — that portrait hanging over your divan is my 
mother’s. Doubtless, had you known it, you would have ban- 
ished it from the walls of your boudoir for hatred of her son.” 

“ I have all along known that it was your mother. But I 
loved my own too deeply ever to offer disrespect to yours. I 
have often raised my imploring eyes to that mild face, and 
have poured out to her spirit my plaint of her son’s cruelty.” 

“Raise your eyes to it again, then, and inform her that it 
rests with you whether her son shall become an assassin or 
not. For, by my mother’s soul, I swear that, if ever there 
comes to pass the most trifling interchange of thought between 
Prince Eugene and the Marchioness de Strozzi, he shall die — 
die, if I have to expiate the deed upon the scaffold ! Do you 
believe me now ? ” 

“ I must believe you,” returned Laura, sickening with dis- 
gust. “ But while conviction despoils you of the last claim I 
supposed you to possess to the name of a man, it does not ter- 
rify me for the life you would destroy. God, who has pro- 
tected him on the field of battle — God, who has created him 
‘ to give the world assurance of a man ’ — God, who is the shield 
of the pure, the brave, the virtuous, will not suffer the Prince 
of Savoy to fall under the dagger of your hired bravi ! ” 

“ Nous verrons. — And now, signora, let us speak of other 
things. The carnival this year is to be of unusual splendor ; 
a number of foreigners of distinction have visited Venice to 
witness it. Lucretia, without doubt, has apprised you of all 
this ? ” 

“She has.” 

“ So I presumed ; for Lucretia is fond of gossip. She would 
gladly induce you to go into society, knowing that a woman 
of your beauty and extreme youth cannot appear in the world 
alone, and that she would naturally be the person to accom- 
panv you. Would you like to see the regatta ? ” 

This proposal terrified Laura, for she comprehended that 
he was in earnest when he threatened Eugene’s life. The 
marquis read her thoughts, and replied to them. 

“ I shall shun no occasion whatever that may justify me in 
keeping the oath you heard me take a while ago. And, there- 
fore, you are welcome to appear at the regatta. The doge will 


280 


PRINCE EUGENE AND II IS TIMES. 


be there in the Bucentaur, attended by all the court. As you 
have refused to be presented as my wife, you cannot take your 
proper place among the ladies of rank. But it is not too late. 
If you wish, I can present you to-day.” 

“ No — no,” cried Laura, “ I do not wish'it.” 

“ Then perhaps you would like to go incognita. It w T ill be 
many years before another such regatta is seen in Venice.” 

“ True, I would like to see the sight,” said the poor young 
victim. And to herself she added : “ I might perchance see 
him .” 

“ Be it so, then, signora ; your wishes are my commands.” 

“ But I would like to see without being seen,” added she. 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Strozzi, with a wicked sneer. “ Then 
I will see that your gondola is closely curtained. Will you 
allow me the honor of accompanying you ? ” 

“ As if I were free to refuse,” said Laura, with quivering lip. 

“ One thing more,” said the marquis. “ It is the custom for 
all who join in the festivities of the carnival to appear in a 
costume of some foregone century. May I commission my sis- 
ter to select yours ? ” 

‘ k I would like to select for myself.” 

The marquis bowed his head. “ As you please. The trades- 
men of Venice will be delighted at last to have a look at the 
beautiful wife of the Strozzi.” 

Laura shrank visibly. “ I will not go,” said she. “ Let the 
Countess Canossa select my costume. It matters little to me : 
but be so good as to see that the gondola is well curtained.” 

“ I will not forget it,” answered the marquis, as he bowed 
and left the room. 

Laura’s eyes followed him until he had crossed her whole 
suite, and had closed the door behind him. Then, yielding to 
the bliss of being left a few moments alone, she opened her 
arms, and, kneeling before her prie-dieu , poured out her heart 
in prayer to Heaven for Eugene's safety. Then, throwing 
herself again upon the divan, she began to dream. She saw 
her gondola approaching his ; she saw her lover — her spouse, 
and made one rapid movement of her hand. His gondola 
touched hers ; she flung aside the curtains and leaped into the 
boat with him. 


LAURA. 


281 


But as she dreamed, there floated over the water the sound 
of song. This was no unusual sound on the Canale Grande, 
but the music was not Italian ; it was no languishing barca- 
rolle, such as Venetian lovers were wont to sing to their mis- 
tresses ; the air was foreign— the words were French. She 
heard them distinctly ; they were the words of her own, dear, 
native language ! 

“ It is he ! ” cried she, springing out upon the balcony. 

Yes, it was he ; he had called her with an old familiar air, 
and, while he looked up in rapture, the music went on, for the 
singers were in a gondola that followed. 

Laura was so wild with joy that she forgot the marquis, his 
spies, and his threats. Snatching the first bouquet that pre- 
sented itself, she made an attempt to throw it to her lover. But 
she had not calculated the distance, and it fell far short of its 
destination. 

“ An evil omen,” murmured she, and then she remembered 
the horrible threat of the marquis. She gave one ejaculation 
of terror, and bounded back into her boudoir. 

About fifteen minutes later, Strozzi entered the room. In 
his hand he held a bouquet of beautiful roses, which he pre- 
sented with mock courtesy. 

“ Signora, you were so unfortunate as to drop your bou- 
quet in the lagoon not long ago. The mermaids will be glad 
to receive so fair a gift from so fair a hand. Allow me to re- 
place it.” 

“ On the contrary, I must request you to take your roses 
away from my boudoir. I do not like the odor of flowers, and 
I threw mine into the water because their perfume oppressed 
me. I regret that you should have taken so much useless 
trouble.” 

“ And I beg pardon for interrupting your reveries,” said 
Strozzi, with a sarcastic smile, as he bowed and retired with 
his bouquet. 

“ Gracious Heaven, I was watched ! Am I, then, given 
over to enemies, and is there not one being here that I can 
trust ? ” 

At this moment a door opened, and a young girl entered 
the room. “ Victorine ! ” exclaimed Laura, joyfully, “ come 
19 


282 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


hither. God has sent you to me to shield me from de- 
spair.” 

The girl came smilingly forward, and, kneeling at her mis- 
tress’s side, looked affectionately at her, saying in Laura’s own 
tongue : 

“ What ails my dear mistress ? ” 

“ Victorine,” replied Laura, gazing earnestly into the maid- 
en’s eyes, “ Victorine, do you love me ? ” 

Victorine covered her hand with kisses, while she pro- 
tested that she loved her mistress with all her heart. “ Dear 
lady,” said she, “ did I not leave Paris for love of her whom 
her royal highness cherished as a daughter ? Was I not sent 
to you by the Duchess of Orleans, that you might have one 
true friend among your troops of enemies ? And now that I 
had hoped to have proved to my dear mistress my devotion, 
she asks if I love her ! ” 

“ True, Victorine, I have no right to doubt your attachment. 
And certainly I have proved that I trust you, by committing 
to your care my letters to the duchess. Ah, Victorine, when 
will you bring me an answer to those letters ? ” 

“ The answers cannot have reached Venice as yet, dear mis- 
tress,” said Victorine, soothingly. “ But I came to tell you 
something. May I speak ? ” 

“ Yes — speak — speak quickly ! ” 

Victorine went on tiptoe to the door, and, having convinced 
herself that no one was near, she came close to Laura, and 
whispered in her ear : “ Madame, one of the foreign princes 
has been here to call on you.” 

“ Who ? who ? ” 

“ Prince Eugene of Savoy,” said Victorine, as though she 
was afraid the breeze might betray her. 

Laura shivered, became deadly pale, and could scarcely 
gather courage to say, “ He was refused entrance ? ” 

“ Yes, the porter told him that the marchioness was in bad 
health, and received no visitors.” 

“ That was well. Go, Victorine, and tell the servants to 
convey neither message nor card of Prince Eugene of Savoy 
to me. I will not receive him. Go, go quickly, and then — ” 

“ And then ? ” said Victorine, coaxingly. 


LAURA. 


283 


Laura was silent for a while ; then, putting her arms around 
Victorine’s neck, she drew the young girl’s head upon her 
bosom. “ Try to find out where Prince Eugene is staying, and 
go to him. Say that you come from the Marchioness Bona- 
letta, and you will be admitted to his presence. Now tell him 
word for word what I shall say to you. ‘ To-morrow the Mar- 
chioness Bonaletta will attend the regatta. Her gondola will 
be closed, but whosoever wishes to recognize it can see her as 
she descends the stair and enters it. Let the gondola be closely 
followed, and when a hand holding a nosegay of roses is seen 
outside the curtain, let the gondoliers be instructed to come as 
close as possible to the hand, so that the two gondolas col- 
lide. Then — let the prince await me.’ Do you hear, Vic- 
torine ? ” 

“Yes, dear mistress, I hear, and will report your words 
faithfully.” 

“Tell him that Venice is alive with spies and bra vi, and 
oh ! bid him be careful how he exposes himself to danger. 
Now go ! and may Heaven bless you for your fidelity to a 
wretched and betrayed woman ! ” 

Victorine withdrew. But before leaving the palace, she 
betook herself to the cabinet of the marquis, where they had 
an interview of some length. No sooner was she dismissed, 
than she retreated to ¥ r own room, drew out a purse of gold 
from her bosom, chinked its contents, emptied them out on 
the table, and counted them with rapture. 

“ Ten ducats ! Ten ducats for each intercepted message,” 
said she. “ I shall soon be rich enough to leave this abomi- 
nable marsh of a Venice, and return to my dear Paris ! ” 

Having locked up her gold, and tied the key of her chest 
around her neck, she directed her steps to the hotel of Prince 
Eugene. 


284 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE REGATTA. 

Prince Eugene was watching the little French clock on 
the marble mantelpiece of his dressing-room, wondering, in 
his impatience, whether it ever would strike the hour of twelve, 
the hour at which he was to witness the departure of the 
Strozzis for the regatta. 

Mademoiselle Victorine had delivered her mistress’s mes- 
sage, and the heart of her lover was once more bounding with 
joy. His eyes flashed with a light which, except on a day of 
battle, had never been seen within their sad depths since the 
dreadful period of his parting with Laura. Forgotten was all 
the anguish of those three long years ; forgotten all doubts, 
forgotten all fears. She loved him ; she was true to her vows, 
and he would bear her away from her ravisher to the spouse 
that was hers before Heaven. 

But how long — how unspeakably long — the hours that in- 
tervened between him and happiness ! He was wishing for 
some interruption that would break this monotonous waiting, 
when the door opened, and Conrad came forward. 

“ My lord, I have found a commis^jjonnaire for you ; one 
who professes to know Venice and its golden book by heart.” 

“ Introduce him at once : I wish to speak with him.” 

Conrad opened the door and signed to some one without, 
when the commissionnaire advanced and bowed. 

“ Why are you masked ? ” asked the prince, who remem- 
bered the warning which Laura had sent him the day pre- 
vious. 

“ Excellenza, every Venetian of good character has a right 
to wear a mask during the carnival.” 

“ And every criminal can take advantage of the right,” re- 
plied Eugene. “ Behind a mask every man has a good char- 
acter, for nobody knows who he is.” 

“ I beg pardon, excellenza. The republican fathers, through 
their sbirri, know every man in Venice. If you will take the 
trouble to look around you in the market-place, you will see 


THE REGATTA. 


285 


how now and then a masker is touched on the shoulder, when 
his mask drops at once, or he escapes among the crowd to 
avoid public exposure.” 

“ Then, I suppose that a stranger has no hope of seeing the 
beautiful women here ? ” observed Eugene, smiling. 

“ Pardon me ; to-day, at the regatta, no masks will be 
worn, and your excellency will see all the beauty of Venice, 
both patrician and plebeian.” 

“ Why, then, do you wear a mask ? ” 

“ I wear it habitually, having a fancy to go about incog- 
nito.” 

“ Nevertheless, you must remove it now, for I cannot take 
a man into my service incognito.” 

The man raised his left hand, withdrew the mask, and re- 
vealed to sight a face that was colorless save where it had been 
marked with a deep-red scar from temple to jaw. 

“ You are indeed conspicuous, and not to be mistaken by 
those who have seen you once. Whence came this scar ? ” 

“ I received it two years ago, excellenza, at the taking of 
Prevosa.” 

“ You have been a soldier, then ? ” asked Eugene, his coun 
tenance at once expressing interest. 

“ I have, indeed ; and but for the loss of my right hand by 
the sabre of an infernal Turk, I would be a soldier still.” 

“You have written the conquests of the republic upon 
your body, my friend,” said Eugene, kindly. “ But your mu- 
tilations are so many orders of valor ; they are the inefface- 
able laurels which victory places on a brave man’s brow.” 

A slight flush overspread the sallow face of the ex-soldier, 
and his eyes sought the floor. 

Eugene contemplated him for several moments with the 
sympathy— even the respect — which a military man feels 
for extraordinary bravery, as attested by such wounds as 
these. 

11 With what manner of weapon were you cut in the face ?” 
said he. “ Not with a sabre, for the scar is curved.” 

“ It was not a sabre-cut, excellenza,” replied the man, in a 
low, tremulous voice. “ I was in the breech, fighting hand to 
hand with a Turk, whom I had just overthrown. While I was 


286 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


stooping over his prostrate body, he drew forth a yataghan 
and gashed my face as you see.” 

“ I knew it was a dagger-thrust,” replied Eugene. “ Well, 
this scar shall be your best recommendation to me, for I, too, 
am a soldier.” 

“ Excellenza, I thank you, but I have other and weighty 
recommendations from my employers. Moreover, here is my 
license as commissionnaire from the Signiory.” 

So saying, he would have handed the prince a document 
with a large seal appended to it, but Eugene waved it away. 

“ I prefer the license to serve that is written on your body, 
my friend. You have been a brave soldier, you will therefore 
be a faithful servant. You say that you are well acquainted 
with Venice ? ” 

“ Ay, indeed, signor ; I know every palace and every den, 
every nobleman and every bravo, in Venice.” 

“ You are, then, the very man I need. Make your terms 
with my secretary. But be loyal to me, and remember that 
the scar you had received in your country’s service was the 
only recommendation I required when I took you into mine.” 

“ Excellenza ! ” exclaimed the man, kneeling, and raising 
the x^rince’s doublet to his lips, “ I will bear it in mind, and 
serve you faithfully.” 

“ I believe you, my brave ! Rise and tell me your name.” 

“ Antonio, signor.” 

“Antonio. — Well, Antonio, you accompany me to the re- 
gatta to-day.” 

“ My lord,” said Conrad, entering the room, “ your gon- 
dola is below, and his highness the Elector of Bavaria is 
here.” 

A deep flush of joy overspread Eugene’s countenance as he 
advanced to welcome his friend. Max Emmanuel had chosen 
the gorgeous costume of a Russian boyar. His dress was of 
dark-blue velvet, bordered with sables, and buttoned up to the 
throat with immense brilliants. On his head he wore a Rus- 
sian cap, with a heron’s plume fastened in front by a rosette of 
opals and diamonds. 

Eugene surveyed him with undisguised admiration. “ You 
are as gloriously handsome as a Grecian demi-god,” cried he, 


THE REGATTA. 287 

enthusiastically. “ I pity the lovely women of Venice to-day, 
when they come within sight of the hero of Buda.” 

“ I absolve them all from tribute except one,” returned 
Max. 

“ What ! In love already ! ” 

“ My dear young friend, I saw yesterday on a balcony a 
black-haired beauty far beyond peri or houri of my imagina- 
tion ! — majestic as Juno, voluptuous as Venus, with eyes that 
maddened, and sjnile that ravished me. Unless I find this 
houri, I am a lost, broken-hearted man ! ” 

“ Then you have not yet begun your siege ? ” 

“ Impossible to begin it. The Duke of Modena was with me, 
and you know what an enterprising roue he is. To have 
pointed her out to him would have been to retreat with loss. 
So I was obliged to say nothing : but I will see her again if, to 
do so, I have to reduce Venice to a heap of ashes ! ” 

“Peace, thou insatiable conqueror, or amorous ambition 
will intoxicate you. You are certainly just the very cava- 
lier to storm and take the citadel of a woman’s heart ; but you 
are the Elector of Bavaria, a reigning prince, and son-in-law 
of the Emperor of Austria.” 

“ My dear Eugene, no ugly moral reflections, as you love 
me ! I am here to enjoy the glow of the warm blood that 
dances through my veins — to sip the ambrosia that pleasure 
holds to my lips— in short, I am, body and soul, a son of the 
short-lived carnival that begins to-day. Don’t preach ; but 
pray if you like, for my success, and help me in my need.” 

“ Help you ? I should like to know how I am to do that ! ” 
said Eugene, laughing. “ But stay— I have a man in my serv- 
ice who professes to know everybody in Venice. So, if you 
should see your houri to-day, point her out, and doubtless An- 
tonio will tell us her name. Ah ! Twelve o’clock at last !— 
Come, come, let us go.” 

“ You have not made your toilet, Eugene. What costume 
have you selected ? ” 

“ The very respectable one of a little abbe,” was the reply. 

‘‘Respectable, if you will, but excessively unbecoming, and 
Unworthy of the Prince of Savoy. I perceive that you, at 
least, have no wish to make conquests to-day.” 


288 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


u No— all my victories I Hope to win by the Help of my good 
sword.” 

“ Do you go with me in my gondola, reverend sir ? ” 

“ I in your magnificent gondola, at the side of such a Phoe- 
bus- Apollo ! I might well despair of making conquests in 
such company ; and, for aught you know, I may he desirous 
of attracting the attention of some fair lady who is not taken 
by appearances.” 

The elector looked up in surprise. He had never heard an 
expression like this from Eugene’s lips before ; and now he saw 
clearly that his demeanor had changed, that his eye was rest- 
less and bright, his cheek flushed, his whole countenance 
beaming with some inward hope or realized joy. 

“Eugene,” said he, touching his friend’s shoulder, “Venice 
holds the secret of your love ; and you have tidings that have 
lightened your heart. I read them in your eyes, which are far 
from being as discreet as your lips. ” 

“ Perhaps so ; but the secrets of love are sacred — sacred as 
those of the confessional. Nevertheless, I may confide in you 
sooner than you expect, for I may need your help as well as 
you mine.” 

The two young men went out arm in arm, followed by the 
suite of the elector, and, behind them, by Conrad and Antonio. 

“ Who is that mask ? ” asked Max, as he passed by. 

“ My new commissionnaire, Antonio — he that is to tell us 
the name of your belle.” 

They were by this time on the marble stairs that led to the 
water, where side by side lay the superb gilded gondola of the 
Elector of Bavaria and the inconspicuous one of the Prince of 
Savoy. 

As the two princes were descending the stairs, a gayly- 
dressed nobleman sprang from the gondola of the elector, and 
advanced respectfully to meet them. 

“Monsieur le Marquis de Villars,” said Max, bowing, “ I am 
happy to see that you have accepted a seat with me.” 

“ It is an honor for which I am deeply grateful, your high- 
ness,” replied the marquis ; “ and one which I accept in the 
name of my gracious sovereign, for whom alone such a, com- 
pliment can be intended.” 


THE REGATTA. 


289 


“ You are mistaken, marquis ; I invited you tliat I might en- 
joy the pleasure of your company to-day. Allow me, Prince 
of Savoy, to introduce to you the Marquis de Villars, the 
French ambassador to the court of Bavaria.” 

“ There is no necessity for us to know each other,” replied 
Eugene. “ The marquis is a Frenchman, and I have no love 
for that nation ; particularly for those who are favorites of 
Monsieur Louvois. Adieu, your highness.” 

And without vouchsafing a word to the French ambassador, 
Eugene entered his gondola. 

“ I must apologize for my friend,” said the courteous Max 
Emmanuel to the marquis. “ He has been sorely injured both 
by the King of France and his minister. Forget his bluntness, 
then, I beseech you, and forgive his unpleasant remark.” 

w He is your highness’s friend, and that at once earns his 
forgiveness,” replied De Villars. “ But that the friend of the 
Elector of Bavaria should be the enemy of my sovereign 
I deeply regret ; for he may prejudice your highness 
against the King of France. He may transfer his aver- 
sion to — ” 

“ Let us rather suppose that I may transfer my love of 
France to him,” said Max Emmanuel. “But let us eschew 
politics, and enjoy the Jbliss of the hour. To-day la bella 
Venezia puts forth all her charms. And as the swift gondolas 
skim over the green waters of the lagoon, so flies my hear* 
toward my bellissima Venetiana !” 

At twelve o’clock, Laura left her dressing-room to join 
the Marquis de Strozzi and his sister in the drawing-room 
below. 

“ Great heavens, how beautiful ! ” cried Lucretia, embracing 
her. “ I have not been wise in placing myself so near you, be- 
witching Laura. Ottario, do look at her ; did you ever see 
such a vision of beauty ? ” 

“ Pray do not force the marquis to praise me,” said Laura ; 
“ you are perfectly aware that I am indifferent to his approba- 
tion. But as regards beauty in Venice, where beautiful women 
abound, the Countess Canossa is acknowledged to be la belleza 
delle belle. And to think that nobody will see you to-day in 
my closed gondola ! ” 


290 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ You adhere to your resolution to have your gondola cur- 
tained ? ” asked the marquis. 

“ Yes,” replied Laura, without bestowing a glance upon him. 

“ And I rejoice to know it,” exclaimed he, passionately, 
“ for I alone will drink in all your beauty. For me alone have 
you worn this becoming costume.” 

“ You know perfectly well that my dress was chosen by 
your sister.” 

“ Catharine Cornaro was by adoption a Venetian,” returned 
Strozzi, “and since you have willingly donned her dress, I 
must accept it as an earnest of your consent to appear as the 
wife of a Venetian noble.” 

To this taunt Laura made no reply. She gave her hand to 
the countess, and they passed into the corridors together. The 
walls were hung with chef s-d? oeuvres of Titian, Tintoretto, 
Paul Veronese, and Gioberti, all gorgeously framed in Italian 
style ; and between each picture was a mirror that extended 
from floor to ceiling. Through these magnificent halls went 
Laura, as regardless of their splendor as of the passionate 
glances of the man who walked by her side, so near and yet so 
far, so very far away from her heart. 

The gondola that awaited them was an heir-loom of the 
Strozzis, and was never used except on gala-days. It was well 
known to the Venetians, every one of whom was accustomed 
to point to it wfith pride, saying, “ There goes the bucentoro of 
the Strozzis ! ” 

As Laura was about to step into this glittering bucentoro, 
the gondoliers around, delighted with her beauty, shouted. 
“ Evviva la Marchesa Strozzi ! ” To their great astonishment, 
the marchesa, instead of bowing and smiling as is usual on 
such occasions, gave no other evidence of having heard their 
greeting than that w T hich by a frown and a flash of her dark 
eyes might be construed into a signal of displeasure, as she 
disappeared behind the silken hangings of the bucentoro. 

The centre of the gondola was supported by gilded pillars, 
surmounted by a canopy of silk and gold. Behind this canopy 
was a sort of pavilion, bordered by seats cushioned with gold 
brocade. In the centre was a table, of costly material and 
make, on which stood a golden vase of rare flowers. The pil- 


THE REGATTA. 


291 


lars also were wreathed with flowers, which appeared to be 
carried from column to column by flying Cupids that were 
holding up the garlands in their chubby little hands. In short, 
the temple was worthy of the divinities, one of whom was light- 
hearted and coquettish, the other proud and serious. Between 
them was the Marquis de Strozzi, in the rich habit of a Greek 
corsair — a character which his handsome, sinister face was 
well fitted to represent. His gloomy black eyes were fixed upon 
Laura, while his hands toyed with a silken cord that hung from 
the pillar against which he was leaning. 

The eyes of the countess were fixed upon the cord, and 
presently she raised them with a glance of inquiry to her 
brother. He nodded, and his sister smiled. Then throwing 
herself back among the cushions, she raised her little foot to a 
gilded stool that was before her, and leaning her head against 
the pillar, looked out upon the waters with an expression that 
might have become Danae awaiting her shower of gold. 

Laura, on the contrary, wore a look of resolve that seemed 
inappropriate to the scene and the occasion. But her thoughts 
were far away from the frivolities that interested Lucretia. 
She had determined that, in presence of all Venice and of the 
foreigners that had assembled there to celebrate the carnival, 
she would burst asunder the compulsory ties that bound her 
to Strozzi. Before the world she would give the lie to that 
simulated bridal, and fly to him who was, by all the laws of 
God, her true and only spouse. 

Thus thought Laura, while far away from the crowds that 
from gondola to gondola were greeting one another, the bucen- 
toro pursued its solitary way over the water. She had man- 
aged to draw aside the curtain and to look around for him 
who to her filled the world with his presence. At last she saw 
him. He was there— there ! and he saw her, for his gondola 
changed its course, and came nearer. Like an arrow it sped 
across the waters, taking heed of no impediments, dashing 
into the midst of other gondolas, as reckless as a pirate of the 
consternation it created among the bewildered gondoliers, who 
were forced to give it passage, or be dashed aside like so much 
spray ; while Eugene^ gaze was fixed upon the golden bark of 
the Strozzi— the argosy that bore such precious freight. At 


292 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


last they neared it, and Eugene could see the little white hand, 
holding a bouquet of roses from between the crimson hang- 
ings of the pavilion. His eyes brightened, and his whole being 
seemed transfigured. Gallant and comely he looked — a knight 
worthy of any woman’s love. 

The Elector of Bavaria had seen all the movements of Eu- 
gene’s gondola. He had seen it suddenly change its course, 
and had watched the prince pointing with uplifted hand to 
some object in the distance, which, to judge by his bearing, 
one would have supposed was a breach to mount. Max Em- 
manuel had smiled and said to himself : “In yonder direction 
lies Eugene’s love-secret. We had better follow, for we may 
be useful in time of need. He seems to me to be too bashful 
to manage an intrigue with skill.” 

So the elector gave orders to follow the gondola of the 
Prince of Savoy ; and now his gondoliers, too, were rowing 
for their lives, while many a bright eye was turned admiringly 
upon his tall, graceful form. 

Laura was not the only person that was looking out from 
the curtained bucentoro. The marquis, too, had seen the two 
approaching gondolas ; and now, as the foremost one came 
full in view, he passed his arm outside, and, while Laura’s head 
was turned away, made a sign to Antonio, who responded with 
another. 

The gondolas were now so close that their occupants were 
easily recognized. Strozzi saw Eugene’s passionate gaze, and 
guessed that it had been returned, although the face of his 
wife had been averted, so that he had not seen the act. 

At this moment Laura turned, and gave a quick, searching 
glance around the pavilion. 

“ You are looking for me ? ” asked Strozzi, with a singular 
smile. “ I am here, my wife, to protect you from all danger ; 
and as I am weary of standing, and as there is no seat for me 
beside you, I will take the place that my heart covets most.” 

And, before Laura could prevent him, he had thrown him- 
self at full length, had clasped her feet, and raised them over 
his knee, so that they had the appearance of having been 
placed in that familiar position by her own will. He then 
pulled the silken cord which he had held all this while in his 


THE REGATTA. 


293 


hand, and the curtains of the pavilion were rolled up, exposing 
its three occupants to the view of the whole Venetian world. 
On one side lay Lucretia, in her Danae-like position, and on 
the other, gazing with the rapture of an accepted lover into 
the face of the marchioness, lay Strozzi. The picture was un- 
equivocally that of a pair of lovers, and those who knew her 
not as his wife were convinced that in Laura they beheld the 
mistress of the Marquis de Strozzi. 

“ Evviva ! ” shouted the enraptured multitude, dazzled by 
the beauty of the tableau. No one heard Laura’s despairing 
entreaty for release from a posture so humiliating. Nor had 
any one heard the exclamation of delight that burst from the 
lips of the elector, as in Lucretia he recognized his houri. 

“ There she is ! ” exclaimed he to the French ambas- 
sador. 

“ Who ? ” asked the latter, in astonishment. 

“ The most beautiful woman that ever distracted a suscep- 
tible man,” was the reply. “ Do you not know her ? ” 

“ I regret to say that I do not, but I will make it my duty 
to discover her abode, and communicate the discovery to your 
highness.” 

“ Thank you,” began the elector. But suddenly he stopped, 
and gazed intently upon Prince Eugene, who was standing at 
the stern of his gondola, only a few feet distant from the bu- 
centoro of the Strozzis. The elector directed his gondoliers to 
approach that of the prince, and, springing from one boat to 
the other, he laid his hand on Eugene’s shoulder. 

*■ Friend,” said he, “ I do not desire to force myself into 
your confidence ; but lest I become your unconscious rival, an- 
swer me one question. Is that lady there, in the red-velvet 
dress, the object of your unhappy attachment ? ” 

“ No, dear Max,” replied Eugene, with his eyes fixed stead- 
fastly upon Laura. 

“Truly?” 

“ Truly, I do not know her ; but if you ask Antonio, he will 
tell you.” 

With these few words Eugene turned away, and, in a low 
voice, promised a rich reward to his gondoliers if they would 
but touch the gondola of the Marquis Strozzi. 


294 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The elector beckoned to Antonio. “ Who is that lady in 
the gilded gondola close by ? ” said he. 

“ Which one, your highness ? ” 

“ The one in red velvet.” 

“ That is the Countess Lucretia Canossa, sister of the Mar- 
quis de Strozzi.” 

“ Is she married ? ” 

“Yes, your highness, to a man who has squandered her 
fortune ; so that but for her brother she would be penniless.” 

The elector thanked Antonio, and leaped hack into his own 
gondola. The Marquis de Villars, meanwhile, who knew that 
gondoliers w T ere the news-givers of Venice, had ascertained 
quite as much of the position of the countess as Max Em- 
manuel had done during his short absence. 

“ I can answer your highness’s question now,” whispered 
he. “ I have learned every thing concerning her that it is 
needful to know from the gondoliers.” 

“ And I, too, know all that I care to know,” replied the 
elector ; “ so here am I, like Rinaldo before the enchanted gar- 
dens of Armida : I must and will enter ! ” 

“ Of course you will. What woman can withstand the 
fascinations of the handsomest cavalier in Europe ? ” observed 
the marquis ; adding to himself : “ And thank Heaven that I 
know the Armida of his longings, for she must draw this Ri- 
naldo, not only into her own toils, but into those of France.” 

Eugene was standing on the edge of his gondola, his pas- 
sionate gaze fixed upon the group that had been disclosed by 
the rising of Strozzi’s silk curtain. What could it mean ? Oh ! 
it was horrible ! To see Laura lying back in a position so vo- 
luptuous, her feet clasped in Strozzi’s arms, his eyes so lovingly 
triumphant, was like a poisoned dagger to the heart of her un- 
happy lover. Had she called him thither to make him the 
sport of his successful rival ? The very thought was madness : 
and yet Laura feigned not to see him ; her eyes were steadily 
cast down. 

Eugene was determined to know the worst ; he would not 
retreat until conviction had chased away this deadly suspense. 
Slowly his gondola came near and more near, while in that of 
his rival its approach was watched by two of its occupants, 


THE REGATTA. 295 

both of whom knew equally well for what purpose it was 
coming. 

Laura gathered up all her strength for one effort, and freed 
her feet from Strozzi’s clasp. 

“ You are a wretch ! ” exclaimed she with indignation. “ If 
you pollute me again with the touch of your hands, I will 
drown myself here, in your very sight.” 

“ Oh no ; you will throw yourself overboard, that Prince 
Eugene may plunge after you. Listen to me, Marchioness de 
Strozzi. I am perfectly acquainted with the nature of the 
stratagem you proposed to put into execution to-day. But I 
tell you that as sure as the gondola of the prince touches mine, 
and you make the least movement of your hand or foot, he 
dies.” 

u Vain threat!” exclaimed she, surveying him wdth con- 
temptuous disbelief. 

“ You think so ? Let me prove to you the contrary. Do 
you see the mask behind Prince Eugene ? He is the man that 
will do the deed. Observe his motions while I speak a word 
or two, ostensibly to my rowers — really to him.” 

And the marquis called out, as though to his gondoliers, 
“ Are you ready ? ” 

The words were no sooner spoken, than the mask bowed 
his head, and drew from his cloak a poniard, which he raised 
and held suspended over the back of Eugene’s neck. 

Laura uttered a cry and fell back among the cushions, 
while Strozzi, hanging over her with the air of an enamoured 
lover, whispered : “ The gondola almost touches ours. Make 
but the smallest sign — lift but a finger, and I swear that I will 
give the signal for his death ! ” 

“ O God ! do not kill him ! ” was all that the wretched girl 
had strength to say. 

The gondolas met. Eugene stood erect on the stern of his 
boat, his right arm extended toward her whom he loved. But 
alas ! she came not. She did not even turn her head ; for An- 
tonio was there, his poniard uplifted, and Eugene’s life de- 
pended upon her obedience. 

“ Traitress ! ” exclaimed the prince, as Strozzi’s bucentoro 
shot ahead, and the red-silk curtains, falling heavily down, 


296 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


shut out the fearful tableau that had been prepared to torture 
and exasperate him. 

Laura had swooned, and her fall had been remarked by the 
gondoliers. 

“ Poor thing,” said one of them, “ she has a paroxysm of 
insanity.” 

“ How insanity ? ” asked Conrad. 

“ Everybody in Venice has heard of the lunacy of the Mar- 
chioness de Strozzi,” was the reply. “ It is for that reason that 
she never goes out. The marquis perhaps thought she might 
be trusted to see the regatta ; hut he was mistaken. You must 
have remarked how closely he watched her for fear of some 
catastrophe.” 

“ Insane, is she ? ” said Eugene, with quivering lip, to An- 
tonio. 

“ Pazza per amore,” replied he, with a shrug. Then, com- 
ing closer to the prince, he added, “ The marquis gives out that 
his wife is crazy, and, as nobody ever sees her, nobody is any 
the wiser.” 

“ And you ? What think you, Antonio ? ” 

“ I do not believe it, for I know the signora well.” 

“ You know her ? ” said Eugene, touching Antonio on the 
shoulder. 

“Yes. She it is who recommended me to take service 
with your highness, and to tell you that you might trust 
me.” 

“ Oh, I do trust you, good Antonio. Did I not say that the 
scar on your face was your best recommendation ? ” 

“ Yes, excellenza ; and I will not forget it.” 

“ Can you explain to me the mystery of the scene we have 
just witnessed ? ” 

“ Yes, excellenza. The marchesa intended to leap into this 
gondola and fly with you from Venice ; but, as she attempted 
to rise, the marquis showed her a dagger, and swore that if she 
moved hand or foot he would spring into your highness’s boat 
and kill you.” 

“ And I cursed her ! ” thought Eugene, “ and she heard my 
cruel words. Oh Laura, my Laura ! when will I lie at thy 
feet to implore forgiveness ? Home,” cried he aloud, to the 


THE KEGATTA. 297 

gondoliers. Then, in a whisper, he added to Antonio, “ I 
must speak with you as soon as we are alone.” 

All this time Laura lay insensible in the bucentoro, her 
husband gazing intently upon her pallid face. The Countess 
Lucretia was wearied to death with the whole performance. 

“ Fratillo,” said she, “ I hope that you have done with me, 
and that you intend to return with your sentimental beauty to 
the palace.” 

Without removing his eyes from Laura, Strozzi bent his 
head, while the countess went on : 

“ My gondola, your handsome present, is just behind us, 
and I must say that it is worthy of Aphrodite herself. Pity 
that no goddess should grace such a lovely sea-shell. Have I 
your permission to occupy it, and leave this stifling atmos- 
phere of love ? ” 

“ Go, go,” answered Strozzi, impatiently. 

“ Thanks ! ” was Lucretia’s heartfelt reply ; and, opening 
the curtains, she beckoned to her gondoliers, and stepped grace- 
fully from the bucentoro to her own dainty bark. 

“ It is rather tiresome to be without company,” thought she, 
as she was rowed away ; “ but solitude is better than conceal- 
ment behind those hateful curtains of Ottario’s. I wonder 
who is the handsome cavalier that seemed to be struck with me 
a while ago ? One of the foreign princes, I imagine, for he had 
a star on his breast. Ah ! — There he is, staring at me with all 
the power of his splendid eyes.” 

And the beautiful Lucretia, pretending not to see the elect- 
or, sank gracefully back among her white satin cushions. 

“ Row toward the piazetta,” said she to her gondoliers, “ but 
go in a direction contrary to that taken by yonder large gon- 
dola filled with cavaliers.” 

“ That of the Elector of Bavaria ? Yes, signora. ” 

“ Ah ! ” thought she, delighted, “ he is the Elector of Bava- 
ria, son-in-law of the Emperor of Germany. It would be worth 
my while to entice so handsome a prince from his loyalty to 
an emperor’s daughter ! ” 

Scarcely had the gondola of the countess altered its course, 
before the elector ordered pursuit. 

“ Do you see that gondola there, fashioned like a sea-shell, 
20 


298 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


and cushioned in white satin, Montgelas ? ” said he to his 
chamberlain. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“ Say to the gondoliers that we follow in its track. Wheth- 
er we see the regatta or not is of no consequence, so we keep 
in view of that Venus in the conch-shell.” 

The Marquis de Villars had pretended to be in earnest con- 
versation with his neighbor, hut he heard every word of this 
order. 

“Yes, indeed,” thought he. “ The countess must he bought, 
if her price be a million.” 

Lucretia vouchsafed not a glance that could be detected at 
her pursuers ; but she saw every thing, and exulted at her con- 
quest. “ Oh, emperor’s daughter, emperor’s daughter ! ” said 
she, “ your husband is falling into my toils. They say you 
are handsome, but your elector’s eyes tell me that I am hand- 
somer than you ! ” 

And so she beguiled her solitude, while in the bucentoro 
Laura still lay in her swoon, and Strozzi gazed enamoured 
upon her beauty. 

“ Beautiful as Aurora ! ” murmured he, “ beautiful as a dew- 
gemmed rose ; beautiful as the evening star ! I love you — I 
love you to madness, and you must, you shall be mine ! ” 

He bent over her, and, now that she had no power to resist 
him, he covered her face with passionate kisses. But his 
kisses restored her to life, and with a shudder she raised her 
hands, and threw him off. 

“ Touch me again, and I will plunge this dagger in your 
false heart ! ” cried she, drawing a poniard from her bosom. 

“ I would not care, so I could say that you were mine be- 
fore I died ! ” 

“Would that you were dead, that I might fly to him whose 
wife I am, in the sight of Heaven ! ” 

“ Put up your dagger,” said Strozzi, coldly, while a look of 
venom chased away the love that had beamed in his eye. “ I 
will not trouble you again.” 

“ You have betrayed me a second time, liar and impostor 
that you are ! ” exclaimed Laura, replacing her dagger. “ You 
have deceived my lover into the belief that I am false to him, 


THE NEGOTIATOR. 


299 


but, believe me, he shall know the truth. God will protect 
him from you and your bravi, and He will avenge my wrongs ! 
Now, order these curtains to be raised. It is better to be gazed 
at by the multitude, some of whom have hearts and souls, than 
to sit in this pavilion within sight of you ! And bid your 
gondoliers take me home to my prison, where, God be thanked ! 
I can sometimes be alone with my own thoughts ! ” 

Strozzi obeyed like a cowed hound. He lifted the curtains, 
and ordered the men to row to the palace. 

Laura’s eyes sought the gondola of her lover, but she could 
not see it. It had left the regatta, and had already landed at 
the stairs of the Palazza Capello. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE NEGOTIATOR. 

Countess Lucretia Canossa had just risen, and lay re- 
clining on a faded ottoman, attired in a neglige, which was 
any thing but elegant, or appropriate to a beauty. She had 
rung several times for her breakfast, but her waiting-maid had 
not seemed to hear the summons, for nobody came at the call. 

The countess, however, was so absorbed in her day-dreams, 
that she forgot her breakfast. For a time her thoughts dwelt 
upon the singular scene that had taken place in the bucentoro. 
She knew nothing of the complications relating thereunto ; 
she had but witnessed the approach of the gondola which she 
supposed to be that of her sister-in-law’s lover ; had seen her 
brother’s extraordinary excitement, and had guessed that some 
disappointment connected with the presence of the insignifi- 
cant little personage in that gondola had caused Laura to fall 
into a swoon. She felt sincerely sorry for her unhappy sis- 
ter-in-law, but the countess was not inclined to sentiment ; so 
she dismissed the mystery of Laura’s troubles with a sigh, and 
fell to thinking of the Elector of Bavaria. 

He had followed her all day, and well had she perceived 
that he had had eyes for no one but herself. And when she 


300 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


bad affected to weary of his pursuit, he had left his own gon- 
dola for that of Count Cornaro, who had approached and 
asked permission to present his distinguished guest. The per- 
mission haying been accorded as a matter of course, the elect- 
or had entered into an animated conversation with her, which 
lasted until the close of the regatta. 

She had met him again that evening, at a ball given by 
Admiral Mocenigo to the foreign princes. Many a handsome, 
gay gallant was there ; but the handsomest and most admired 
of them all was Max Emmanuel of Bavaria. His dress, too, 
was magnificent in the extreme. It was so covered with dia- 
monds that it was like a dazzling sea of light. But more splen- 
did than his jewels were the flashing eyes which, during that 
whole festival, had been fixed in admiration upon the beauti- 
ful Lucretia ; and what was still more delightful was the fact 
that everybody had observed it, and that many a dame, who 
had eclipsed the Countess of Canossa, and slighted her be- 
cause of her poverty, had envied her the conquest of the Ba- 
varian prince’s heart. It had all ended as it should have done. 
Max Emmanuel had asked permission to call upon her, and he 
was to make his visit at one o’clock that day. 

Lucretia had advanced so far in her triumphal course, when 
she cast a glance of dismay at her mean, faded furniture. 

“ Oh, how forlorn it looks ! ” said she. “And to think that 
this is the only room wherein I can receive a visit ! for not 
another apartment in the palace contains a chair whereon a 
man might take a seat. I ought not to have yielded to my 
vanity, and consented to receive him at home, for, when he 
sees my poverty, he will no longer think my heart worthy of 
being won. He will believe that it can be bought, and I shall 
sink in his estimation to the level of an ordinary courtesan. 
I must be proud and reserved to-day with him ; and, as I have 
naught else to display, I must show off my wardrobe. But 
where can Marietta be? Perhaps Count Canossa has gam- 
bled her away, and she has gone off like the rest of the ap- 
pointments of this dreary palace.” 

Lucretia rang again ; still there was no answer. 

“ The poor girl must have gone out to get me some break- 
fast. I had forgotten that the cook left us because he had not 


THE NEGOTIATOR. 


301 


been paid for a year ; and, as there is nobody else here, I must 
e’en have patience until Marietta returns.” 

Lucretia sighed, and fell back upon her ottoman. For 
some time past she had been aware that there was considerable 
bustle in the palace, attended by hammering, and the sound of 
furniture either placed or displaced. She had paid very little 
attention to it, for the rooms were entirely empty, and she 
could only conjecture that her needy spouse might have rented 
them out for the carnival. But the noise came nearer and 
nearer, until she perceived that it had reached the adjoining 
chamber, whence she could hear the sound of voices, and dis- 
tinguish much that was said. 

She rang again, and this time the door was opened by some 
invisible hand, when Marietta, bearing in her hand a large sil- 
ver waiter, advanced to a rickety table which stood near the 
ottoman, and placed upon it a most delicate breakfast, served 
in dishes of costly, chased silver. Not only the service was 
superb, but Marietta herself was attired in a costume which 
shamed the shabbiness of her high-born mistress. 

Begging the countess’s pardon for her unpunctuality, the 
maid proceeded to pour out the chocolate, which she handed in 
a cup of Sevres porcelain. 

Lucretia rubbed her eyes. “ Where, in the name of Alad- 
din, did you get that dress ? — And where this service ? ” 

“ The dress was brought to me this morning, my lady, and 
the mantua-maker told me that it had been ordered by your- 
self ; the jeweller who brought the services of silver told me 
the same thing.” 

“I ! ” cried the countess. “ I order such costly things ? ” 

“ Why, yes, my lady, for the upholsterers have almost 
arranged the beautiful furniture you bought yesterday.” 

The countess smiled. “ This is a prank of some carnival- 
mad jester, -child,” said she. “ There is not a word of truth in 
it. I wish there were ! ” 

“ It is as true as that there are at least fifty workmen in the 
palace at this very moment,” was Marietta’s reply. 

Lucretia made no answer. She sprang from her ottoman, 
and, crossing the room, threw open the door leading into the 
next saloon. 


302 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Marietta had spoken the sober truth. There they were all 
— fifty — some hanging satin curtains before the bare windows, 
others placing lofty mirrors in the recesses ; one detachment 
uncovering the gilded furniture, another arranging it, while 
the last folds of a rich Turkey carpet were being smoothed in 
the corners of the room, where dainty tables held vases of 
costly workmanship, filled with rare flowers. 

At first the countess had been struck dumb and motionless. 
Kecovering herself, however, after a moment or two, she went 
hastily up to the person who seemed to direct the proceedings, 
and accosted him : 

“ Will you oblige me by saying who ordered all this furni- 
ture ? ” 

“ Her ladyship, the Countess de Canossa,” was the man’s 
reply. 

“ Are you acquainted with the countess ? ” asked Lucretia. 

“ No, madame ; I have not that honor.” 

“ Then, how do you know that you are acting by her or- 
ders ? ” 

“I received them yesterday through her steward.” 

“ Her steward ? And have you seen him since ? ” 

“ Yes, madame. He came again this morning very early, 
to see whether we were punctual. It was all to be completed 
by one o’clock, and, as it is not quite ten, you perceive that we 
will certainly have done in time. But I must ask you to see 
the countess and request permission for the workmen to be ad- 
mitted to her boudoir. Will you be so good as to convey the 
message ? ” 

Lucretia cast a glance of shame at her faded gown. “ He 
does not know me,” thought she, “ and how should he in 
such a guise ? ” Then she added, aloud, “ I will apprise the 
countess.” 

Marietta was now in the dressing-room, whither she 're- 
quested the presence of her mistress immediately. 

“ What is it ? ” asked the bewildered Lucretia. 

“ The dressmaker is there, signora, to see if your dresses are 
to your taste,” replied Marietta. 

“ Let me see them,” cried she, impatiently. 

Marietta drew from a box a dress of pink satin, which, 


THE NEGOTIATOR. 


303 


from its make, was evidently intended for an under-skirt. 
“ There is another, just like it, of blue satin,” exclaimed the 
enraptured lady’s maid, “and here is a box containing two 
peignoirs of guipure, with morning caps to match. How 
beautiful your ladyship will look in these negliges ! ” 

“We will see at once whether I do,” answered Lucretia, 
clapping her hands with joy. “ Here Marietta — quick ! Help 
me off with this hateful gown, and hand me the pink- satin 
petticoat. ” 

In a few moments the mistress and maid were equally 
happy, while the former was being decked in her magnificent 
neglige. The satin petticoat was loose ; and over it was thrown 
the guipure peignoir which reached to the throat, and was con- 
fined at the waist by a pink sash. The full sleeves were open, 
leaving half-covered, half-exposed, Lucretia’s arms, firm and 
white as Carrara marble. 

“ Now this love of a lace cap,” cried Marietta, placing it 
with great coquetry around the black braids of Lucretia’s glossy 
hair ; while the latter, quite reconciled to the wonders that 
were being enacted around her, was profoundly engaged in 
admiring herself in a looking-glass. 

“ And now,” said Marietta, “ you are ready, and certainly 
you are as lovely as a fairy.” 

“ Fairy, say you ? Yes ; that seems to be the appropriate 
name for one who is the recipient of such extraordinary riches 
as these. But now, Marietta, whence do they come ? Are they 
from my brother ? ” 

“ Signora, I know no more than I have told you. Yester- 
day a gentleman (I think he must have been a Frenchman) 
came hither, announced himself as an architect, and told me 
that your ladyship had sent him to examine the palace, with a 
view to refurnishing it with great magnificence.” 

“Hid you take him over the rooms ? ” 

“ Of course I did, my lady. He took various notes as he 
went along, and remained longer in your boudoir than in any 
room in the palace. He sat down and made a drawing of it, 
asking me, now and then, a question as to your ladyship’s 
tastes and habits.” 

“ Gracious Heaven ! ” exclaimed the countess, while a pain- 


304 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ful blush overspread her face, “ has he been here to see my 
need and hear of my privations ? Can he have been the secret 
giver of all this magnificence ? ” 

As the possibility that the Elector of Bavaria was her un- 
known benefactor, presented itself to Lucretia’s mind, her 
humiliation grew extreme ; for if these gifts were from him, 
they proved that he held the daughter of the noble house of 
Strozzi to be a creature that was to be bought with gold, with- 
out the poor pretence of one word of love. 

“ When came he, and what sort of looking man was he ? ” 
asked she, frowning. 

“He came just after the regatta had begun, signora.” 

“ Then, God be praised, it was not he ! ” said Lucretia to 
herself, “ for at that hour, he was with me, in Count Cornaro’s 
gondola.” 

A faint knock was heard at the door, and the decorateur 
begged permission to enter. His coming awakened the count- 
ess from her reverie, and she hastily bade him come in, “ for,” 
said she, “it must be almost one o'clock.” 

“ The clock on the mantel of the drawing-room has just 
struck eleven, your ladyship,” replied the man, who, now that 
she was richly dressed, recognized the lady of the house. 

“ So,” thought Lucretia, “ I have a clock ! ” and she bound- 
ed off to the drawing-room to see it. Marietta followed with 
the chocolate, which, in the excitement of the moment, had 
been forgotten. 

“ True,” said the countess. “ bring me my breakfast, and let 
me take it here in this beautiful apartment. Who is that at 
the door ? ” added she, as Marietta went forward to open it. 

“ Your ladyship’s butler,” replied she. “ He comes to know 
whether the dejeuner a la fourchette is to be served in the bou- 
doir or in the banqueting-hall.” 

“ Let it be in the banqueting-hall, for I may have several 
guests.” 

“ The steward ordered it for one o’clock, my lady. He said 
that you expected some guests of distinction.” 

“ My steward ? ” repeated Lucretia, smiling. “ So it seems 
that I have an entire household. Let us go over our altered 
domains, Marietta.” And the two went from room to room, 


THE NEGOTIATOR. 


305 


the femme de cbambre as delighted as her mistress, until they 
descended as far as the kitchen. Here every thing gave evi- 
dence that the dejeuner was to be a rare one. Two cooks, in 
white, presided over the arrangements, and two scullions were 
busy carrying out the orders of the chief. They were so ab- 
sorbed in their business, that they did not perceive the countess 
who stood in the door. 

Presently from the storeroom opposite there emerged a 
man with baskets of bottles, which he deposited on the table, 
saying : 

“ Here is Burgundy for the Bayonne ham. The champagne, 
sherry, and constantia, are for the table.” 

The countess had now seen and heard enough. Not only 
was her palace fitted up, but her kitchen was in order, and her 
wine-cellar filled. So she returned to the drawing-room, where 
she was met with the tidings that her boudoir was ready for 
occupation, and nothing now remained to be done, unless her 
ladyship had any alterations to suggest, or deficiencies to point 
out. 

Her ladyship professed herself satisfied, and then came a 
moment of embarrassment. “ As regards the payment — ” 

u Oh, signora, the steward is to meet me at twelve o’clock, 
to arrange that matter.” And with these words he took his 
leave. 

u I ought to have followed him,” thought Lucretia, u to 
solve this agreeable riddle, by making acquaintance with my 
steward. But pshaw ! I shall soon know all about it. Nobody 
has made me these presents without intending to get a word 
of thanks for the benefaction.” 

She had scarcely seated herself in a new and beautiful otto- 
man, which had replaced her faded, rickety old couch, before 
a servant appeared and announced, 

“ Her ladyship’s steward ! ” 

“ My ladyship’s steward ! ” echoed Lucretia. <k Do let us 
make his acquaintance.” 

He came in — a small, slender man, apparently young, with 
a pair of twinkling black eyes, and a countenance expressive 
of great energy. With the air of a finished gentleman he 
bowed, advanced, and bowed again. 


306 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Signor,” said the countess, “ you have been announced by 
a title which I have no right to bestow upon any person living 
—that of my steward. Pray tell me who you are.” 

“Gracious countess,” answered he, smiling, “I have the 
honor to present myself. I am the Marquis de Villars, am- 
bassador of his majesty the King of France to the court of 
Bavaria.” 

“ And may I ask why, in addition to your other representa- 
tive titles, you have assumed that of steward to the Countess 
of Canossa ? ” 

“Because, signora, seeing that your habitation was not 
worthy of you, I have ventured to perform the duties of a 
faithful steward, by fitting it up in a manner which I hope is 
agreeable to the divinity at whose shrine the elector is now a 
worshipper ? ” 

“ Did the elector suggest— ” began Lucretia, reddening. 

“ Oh no, signora ; he knows nothing of the little surprise I 
have prepared for you. It does not concern him at all.” 

“ Then I am to suppose that Count Canossa, having gam- 
bled away my very home, this palace has become your prop- 
erty, and I am here on sufferance. How long may I remain ? ” 

“ How long may you remain in your own home ! Signora, 
all that you see has been done for you, in your own name, and 
I hope you will do me the honor to accept it.” 

“ From whom ? ” 

“ You shall learn as soon as we understand each other, sig- 
nora.” 

“ Then let us come to an understanding at once, for the 
Countess Canossa does not receive princely gifts from stran- 
gers. ” 

“ Of course not, nor would a stranger take so unpardonable 
a liberty with a lady of her rank and birth. But before going 
further, let me assure you, signora, that you are under obliga- 
tions to nobody for the little surprise I have prepared for you. 
Not in the least to me, for I am but the representative of him 
who begs your acceptance of it.” 

“ You speak in riddles,” said Lucretia, with a shrug. “ But, 
at all events, I understand that this furniture, silver, and these 
rich dresses, are mine ? ” 


THE NEGOTIATOR. 


307 


“ Assuredly yours, signora.” 

“ Then let me inform you that in a week, at farthest, they 
will go, as they came, in the space of a few hours. Count Ca- 
nossa will have lost them at the gaming-table, and the palazzo 
will be in the same condition as it was yesterday.” 

“ Count Canossa is powerless to touch the least portion of 
your property, signora. ” 

“ Powerless ? How ! Are you a sorcerer, and have you 
changed him into stone ? Or have you spirited him away ? ” 

“ I have spirited him away, signora. I have persuaded him 
by the eloquence of gold to forsake Venice, forever. As long 
as he remains in Paris, he is to receive a yearly pension from 
the King of France.” 

“ Gone to Paris ! Pensioned by the King of France ! ” ex- 
claimed Lucretia. 

“ Gone, signora ; and, in leaving, he desired me to say to 
you that he hoped you would forgive all the unhappiness he 
had caused you since your marriage.” 

“ Gone ! Gone ! Am I then free ? ” cried Lucretia, start- 
ing from her ottoman, and grasping the hand of the mar- 
quis. 

“Yes, signora. You are free to bestow your heart on 
whomsoever you will. Count Canossa will never molest you 
more. ” 

“ Oh how I thank you ! How I thank you ! ” replied she, 
her beautiful eyes filling with tears of joy. “ But tell me,” 
added she, after a short pause — “tell me, if you please, the 
meaning of all this providential interference with my domestic 
affairs ? ” 

“ I am ready, signora,” said the marquis, waiting for the 
countess to resume her seat, and then placing himself at her 
side. “ Perhaps in your leisure hours you may have interested 
yourself in European politics. ” 

“ Not I,” said Lucretia, emphatically. 

“ Then allow me to enlighten you on the subject,” replied 
the marquis. 

“ To what end ? ” inquired she, impatiently. 

“ I will not detain you long, signora. Give me but a few 
moments of your attention. Doubtless you have heard that 


303 


PRINCE EUGENE .AND HIS TIMES. 


the Emperor of Austria, for several years past, has been at war 
with the Porte ? ” 

Lucretia nodded, and the marquis went on. “ Perhaps it 
will interest you to know that the Elector of Bavaria is an ally 
of the emperor, and has distinguished himself greatly, particu- 
larly at the siege of Buda.” 

“ Oh, I can believe it,” cried she, with animation. “ He 
looks like a hero. Tell me, pray, something about his ex- 
ploits.” 

“ Later, signora, with pleasure ; but for the present we 
must discuss politics. Now the Emperor of Austria is fast get- 
ting the better of the Sultan ; and if the latter should succumb 
in this war, the former would not only be left with too much 
power for the good of Europe generally, but would become a 
dangerous rival to the King of France. Now it is important 
for my sovereign that the victories of Austria cease, and that 
Austria’s power wax no greater. Have I expressed myself 
clearly ? Do you understand ? ” 

“ I begin to understand,” was the reply. 

“ Now, there are various ways of crippling the resources of 
Austria ; for example, her allies might be estranged. Have 
patience, signora ; in a few moments my politics will grow 
personal and interesting. One of the emperor’s most power- 
ful allies is the Elector of Bavaria.” 

“ Of course,” cried Lucretia, delighted with the turn that 
politics were taking. “ Of course he is, beings the emperor’s 
son-in-law. Tell me about the elector’s wife. Is she hand- 
some ? Does he love her ? ” 

“ Signora, as regards your latter question, the elector him- 
self will have great pleasure in answering it. As regards the 
former, the Archduchess Antonia is handsome, but sickly, and 
her ill-health has lost her the affection of her husband.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Lucretia, relieved, “ he does not love her.” 

“ He loves her no longer,” said the marquis. “ But he was 
greatly taken by the charms of the Countess Kaunitz ; and as 
the elector’s alliance with Austria was a matter of more im- 
portance than his conjugal relations with the archduchess, the 
husband of the fair countess was appointed ambassador to Ba- 
varia, and his w T ife ambassadress. It was through the influ- 


TEE NEGOTIATOR. 


309 


ence of this charming ambassadress that Max Emmanuel joined 
the forces of Austria.” 

“ So he has a mistress, then ? One whom he loves ? ” 

“ Whom he loved until he saw the Countess Canossa.” 

“ Do you think I could supplant her ? ” exclaimed Lucretia, 
her large eyes darting fire at the thought. 

“ I do not doubt it,” was the flattering reply. “ If you 
choose, you can trample under foot this arrogant Austrian, 
who flatters herself that Max Emmanuel is all her own.” 

“ I would like to try,” cried Lucretia, with the air of an 
amazon about to go into battle. 

“ Then let me offer my services,” said the marquis, bowing. 
“ The elector is peculiar, and has pretensions to be loved for 
his own sake ; therefore he would never quite trust the disin- 
terested affections of a woman whom he had power to raise 
from poverty to affluence.” 

“ Ah ! ” cried Lucretia, with a significant bend of the head. 
“ Now I begin to apprehend your meaning as well as your 
munificence.” 

“Signora,” said De Villars, with equal significance, “the 
King of France seeks a friend who will alienate the elector 
from Austria, and win him for France. Will you accept the 
trust ? ” 

“ But you said that he loved another woman.” 

“So much the greater will he your glory in the conquest, 
for the countess is beautiful and fascinating.” 

“ Is she in Venice ? ” 

“Wherever the elector goes, thither she is sure to fol- 
low.” 

“ She must leave Venice ; she must he forced to leave ! ” 
cried the vindictive Italian, ready to hate the woman whom 
Max Emmanuel loved. 

“ You must do better. Induce the elector to forsake her, 
and leave her in Venice like another Didone abbandonata, 
while you carry him in triumph hack to Munich. 

“ I will, indeed I will ! ” exclaimed Lucretia, exultingly. 

“ Ah, signora,” said the marquis, coaxingly, “ what a mag- 
nanimous and disinterested nature you display ! You accede 
to my request without naming conditions. Allow me to ad- 


310 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


mire your nobleness, and believe me when I say that my royal 
master shall hear of it.” 

“ Well, tell him that, if it lies in my power, Max Emmanuel 
shall learn to dislike Austria and love France.” 

“ Signora, you are the instrument of a great purpose. I 
give you a whole year wherein to work ; and if, at the end of 
that time, you have prevailed upon the elector to sign a treaty 
of alliance with France, you , as one of France’s noblest allies, 
shall receive from my royal master one million of francs. 
Meanwhile you shall have ten thousand francs a month for 
pin-money.” 

“ Alas ! ” said Lucretia, “ I am forced to accept ; for my 
husband has so effectually impoverished me that I live on the 
bounty of my brother. And he is so arrogant that I am al- 
most as glad to be independent of him as to be delivered from 
my detestable husband. I shall endeavor to let my acts speak 
my gratitude for the deliverance. ” 

“ Allow me, signora, to present you with your pocket-mon- 
ey for this present month, and give me a receipt in the shape 
of your fair hand to kiss.” 

So saying, he laid a purse of gold at Lucretia’s feet, and 
covered her hand with kisses. 

“ I shall want to consult you frequently, dear marquis,’ ob- 
served Lucretia. 

“ I shall always be at your service.” 

“ And now, I take it as a matter of course, that what has 
passed between us this morning is to remain a profound se- 
cret.” 

“As a matter of course, signora, it goes no further,” re- 
turned De Yillars, * “ and to insure perfect secrecy, you must 
pretend not to know me when we meet abroad. Not even the 
elector — or, perhaps I should say, above all men, the elector is 
not to know of my visit. I must, therefore, take my leave, 
for — hark ! your clock strikes one, and lovers are sure to be 
punctual.” 

“ I shall expect you every morning at eleven ; and so we 
can take counsel together, and I can report daily progress to 
you.” 

* “ Memoirs of the Marquis de Yillars,” vol. i., p. 104. 


THE LOVERS REUNITED. 


311 


“ Aurevoir, then, signora. Allow me one word more. If, 
before the close of the carnival, you leave Venice in company 
with the elector, I shall take the liberty of refunding to you 
the entire cost of the refurnishing of your palace to-day, as 
compensation for its temporary loss. And now, fairest of the 
allies of France, adieu ! ” 

The French ambassador had hardly time to make his es- 
cape, before the doors of the drawing-room were flung open, 
and the lackey announced, “ His highness the Elector of Ba- 
varia ! ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE LOVERS REUNITED. 

Two weeks had elapsed since that unhappy meeting be- 
tween Eugene and Laura — two weeks of expectation and hope 
frustrated. In vain had Eugene attempted to reach her with 
a message ; in vain had he remained for hours before her win- 
dows ; in vain had Antonio tried to penetrate into her presence. 
Day after day came the same sorrowful news : the marchion- 
ess was very ill, and no one was allowed to pass the threshold 
of the palace. Her husband watched day and night at her 
bedside, and, excepting Mademoiselle Victorine, no living 
creature was allowed to enter her room. 

When, for the fourteenth time, Antonio returned unsuc- 
cessful from his mission, Eugene became so agitated and grew 
so pale that the bravo was touched to the heart, and, taking 
the prince’s hand, covered it with kisses. 

“ Do not be so cast down, excellenza,” said he, imploringly ; 
“ have courage, and hope for the best.” 

“ Oh, Antonio ! ” murmured the prince, “ she is dead ! ” 

“No, excellenza, no ! I swear to you that she lives, nor 
do I believe one word of this rumored illness.” 

“ Why should you not believe it, my friend ? ” 

“ Because I know the marquis well ; and this is merely a 
pretext for keeping his wife imprisoned.” 

“ Thank you, Antonio, thank you,” replied Eugene, “ for 


312 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


this ray of hope. Then I depend upon you to deliver my mes- 
sage sooner or later. Remember my words : ‘ The Prince of 
Savoy knows why the marchioness did not speak to him. He 
lives, loves, and hopes . 1 And if you will but return to me 
with one word from her lips, I will feel grateful to you for 
life, Antonio.” 

“ I will serve you with my life, excellenza,” said Antonio, 
bowing and leaving the room. 

He had not been long away, before the door was opened, 
and Conrad announced the Elector of Bavaria. 

“ I have come to entice the hermit of the Capello out of his 
cell,” cried Max Emmanuel. “ My dear Eugene, was ever a 
man so obstinate a recluse ? Every time I come I am told that 
you are at the arsenal, the dock-yards, the armory, a picture- 
gallery, or some other retreat of arts and sciences.” 

“ Well, dear Max, I am a student, and find much to learn 
in Venice.” 

“ To whom do you say that ? ” cried Max, laughing. “ As 
if I, too, were not a student, only that my tastes lie not in the 
same direction as yours, and as if I were not making tremen- 
dous progress in my studies ! ” 

“ No wonder : you are far advanced in every branch of 
learning, while I am but a neophyte.” 

“ No such thing ; you are much more deeply learned than 
I ; but you are the victim of an unfortunate passion which you 
are striving to smother under a weight of study, while I— I, 
my dear fellow, am distancing you every hour of the day, for 
my studies are all concentrated upon the ‘art of love . 1 ” 

“ God speed you, then, and deliver you from the malady 
that is wasting away my life ! 11 

“ You are an incomprehensible being, Eugene. I cannot 
comprehend your dogged fidelity to such an abstraction as a 
woman whom you never see. You have not trusted me with 
your secret, and yet I might have done you some service had 
you been more frank with me.” 

“ You mock me,” replied Eugene, gloomily. 

“ No, Eugene, I do not mock you. I know your secret, 
despite your taciturnity. I know that you love the Marchion- 
ess Strozzi, and that the jealousy of her husband is such that 


THE LOVERS REUNITED. 31 3 

you have not been able to speak a word with her since your 
arrival in Venice.” 

“ Who could have told you ? ” 

“ My bouri — she whose love has made of Venice a Mussul- 
man’s paradise to me. Ob, Eugene ! I am the happiest man 
alive ! I am beloved and loved for myself. My beautiful 
mistress is noble and rich ; she refuses all my gifts, and yet 
she is about to give me unequivocal proof of her love : she is 
about to leave her lovely Italian home, and fly with me to 
Munich.” 

“ Are you about to leave Venice so soon ? ” 

“ The archduchess is dangerously ill, and yesterday a cou- 
rier was sent to summon me home. And, would you believe 
it ? my Lucretia consents to accompany me, on condition that 
I force no gifts upon her acceptance, but allow her to furnish 
her house in Munich at her own expense. Did you ever hear 
of such disinterestedness ? Now I am about to give you a 
proof of my confidence, and tell you the name of my mistress. 
It is the Countess Canossa. Well ! — You are not overjoyed ? 
You do not understand ! — ” 

“ How should I be overjoyed or understand, when I do not 
know the lady, Max ? ” 

. “ Great goodness, is it possible that this unconscionable 
snail has lived so closely in his shell that he does not know 
how fortunate for him it is, that the Countess Canossa loves 
me ! Hear me, Eugene. My Lucretia is the sister of the Mar- 
quis de Strozzi. ” 

“ My enemy ! ” murmured Eugene, his brow suddenly 
darkening. 

“Yes ; but not his sister’s friend ; for although he makes a 
confidante of her, she hates him. Except Victorine, the count- 
ess is the only person permitted to have access to her sister-in- 
law’s apartments. ” 

Eugene’s eyes now brightened with expectation, and he 
looked gratefully up into the elector’s handsome, flushed 
face. 

“ Yes, Eugene, yes,” continued Max, “ and through her an- 
gelic goodness, you shall visit your Laura. To-day, Lucretia 
appears as Mary Stuart, at a masked entertainment given by 
21 


314 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Admiral Mocenigo. Before she goes, she is to show off her 
dress to the poor prisoner of the Palazzo Strozzi. Her long 
train is to be borne by a page, who of course will have to fol- 
low whithersoever Mary Stuart goes. This page is to be your- 
self, my boy ! ” 

Eugene threw himself into the elector’s arms. He was too 
happy for speech. 

At noon, on the same day, the gondola of the Countess Ca- 
nossa stopped before the Palazzo Strozzi. The countess, dressed 
in a magnificent costume, went slowly up the marble stairs, 
her long train of white satin borne by a page in purple velvet. 
His face, like that of his mistress, was hidden by a mask ; and 
the broad red scarf which was tied around his slender waist, 
confined a small dagger whose hilt was set in precious stones. 
His eyes were so large and bright that the mask could not en- 
tirely conceal their beauty ; and it was perhaps because of 
their splendor that the porter hesitated to admit him within 
the palace. 

The countess, who had gone a few steps before, turned care- 
lessly round, and asked why her page did not follow. 

“ Your ladyship,” replied Beppo, the porter, “ the marquis 
has forbidden the admission of strangers.” 

“ And you call that poor, little fellow of mine a stranger ? 
You might as well ask me to cut off my train, as expect me to 
wear it without my page ! — Come, Filippo, come ! ” 

Filippo passed on, while the old porter grumbled. 

“ Never mind, Beppo,” said the countess, looking back kind- 
ly, “ I will tell my brother of your over-watchfulness, and in- 
form him what a love of a Cerberus he has for a porter.” And 
on she went, having reached the top of the staircase, before 
Filippo and the train had gone half way. 

Mademoiselle Yictorine was awaiting their arrival, and 
made a profound courtesy to Lucretia. 

“Signora, the marchioness awaits you in her boudoir.” 

“ And the marquis knows that I am here ? ” 

“ Yes, signora. He was anxious to accompany you in your 
visit to my lady ; but she would not consent ; and you know 
that he dares not go without it. He never has crossed the 
threshold of her dressing-room.” 


THE LOVERS REUNITED. 


315 


“ I know it well. Now go and announce my visit to her. 
But first, go to the marquis and tell him that, as soon as I shall 
have returned from the apartments of my sister-in-law, I wish 
to see him in his cabinet, on important business.” 

This was spoken in an elevated tone, so that all the spies, 
whom Lucretia knew to be eavesdropping around, might hear 
her words and repeat them. 

“ I go, signora,” replied Yictorine, in the same tone ; but 
she added in a whisper to the page, “ For God’s sake, he dis- 
creet ! ” 

The lady’s maid, in obedience to Lucretia’s orders, went 
directly to the cabinet of Strozzi, while the countess proceeded 
in an opposite direction. At the end of the grand corridor 
was a lofty door, which, being shut, the countess remained 
stationary ; while Filippo, who seemed not to have remarked 
it, went on with his train, until he stood immediately behind 
his mistress. 

She chided him for his familiarity. “ Back, Filippo,” said 
she, impatiently. “ When I stop, how do you presume to go 
on ? You are too unmannerly for a page ! ” 

Filippo murmured a few unintelligible words, and retreat- 
ed, while the countess knocked several times at the door. 

“It is I, Laura, the Countess de Canossa!” 

If anybody had been near, the beatings of poor Filippo’s 
heart might have been heard during the pause that ensued be- 
fore the door was opened. At length its heavy panels were 
seen to move, and a sweet, soft voice was heard : 

“ Come in, dear Lucretia.” 

The countess disappeared within ; but scarcely had she en- 
tered the room before she grasped Laura’s arm, and hurried 
her into the room beyond. 

“ Not here, not here,” whispered she. “ Go into your pri- 
vate apartment, Laura. In this one you would be unsafe. 
There will be listeners at the door.” 

Laura made no reply ; she flew back and disappeared be- 
hind the portiere that led into her boudoir. The countess 
looked back at her page, who leaned trembling against a mar- 
ble column close by. 

“Shut the door, Filippo,” said she, “ and await me here. I 


316 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


will see the marchioness in her boudoir, and Mademoiselle 
Yictorine will be back presently, to entertain you.” 

The door was shut, and Filippo, letting Mary Stuart’s train 
drop without further ceremony, sprang forward and touched 
tlie arm of his royal mistress. 

“Where is she ? ” 

“ In her boudoir.” The page would have gone thither at 
once ; but Lucretia stopped him. “ Mark my words well. 
Speak low ; and when Yictorine summons you away, obey at 
once, for delay may cost you your life. And now, impatient 
youth, begone ! ” 

They were together. Laura would have sprung forward to 
meet him, but emotion paralyzed her limbs, and chained her 
to the floor. He clasped her in his loving arms, kissed her 
again and again, and each felt the wild throbbing of the oth- 
er’s heart. Forgotten were the long years of their parting, 
forgotten all doubt, all anguish. It seemed but yesterday that 
they had plighted their troth in that moonlit pavilion ; and 
nothing lay between, save one long night which now had 
passed away, leaving the dawn of a day that was radiant with 
sunshine. 

“I have thee once more, my own ! Close — close to my 
heart, and would to God thou couldst grow there, blending 
our dual being into one ! ” 

“ Not once more, my Eugene, for thou hast never lost me. 

I have kept unstained the faith I pledged, and never have I be- 
longed to any man but thee ! ” 

“ But alas, my treasure, I may not possess thee ! Let me at 
least drink my fill of thy beauty, my Laura ! ” 

She drew him gently to her divan, and there, just as he 
had done in the pavilion, he knelt at her feet, and gazed, en- 
raptured, in her face. With her little white hands she stroked 
his black locks, and lifted them from his pale, high brow. 

“ My hero,” murmured she, tenderly. “ Thou hast decked 
that brow with laurels since I loved thee, Eugene ; and the 
world has heard of thee and of thy deeds of valor. I knew it 
would be so ; I knew that the God of the brave would shield 
thy dear head in the day of battle, and lift thee to mountain- 
heights of glory and renown.” 


THE LOVERS REUNITED. 


317 


“And yet I would so gladly have yielded up my life, 
Laura ! What was life without thee ? One long night of 
anguish, to which death would have been glorious day ! Oh, 
Laura ! that day — that fearful day — on which I was bereft of 
thee ! ” 

She laid her hand upon his lips. “ Do not think of it, be- 
loved, or thou wilt mar the ecstasy of the present. I, too, have 
suffered— more, it must have been more, than thou ! And yet 
in all my anguish I was happy ; for I was faithful, though 
sorely tried, and never, never despaired of thy coming.” 

“And yet thou art the wife of another.” 

“ Say not so. When the priest laid my hand in his, I laid 
it in thine. To thee were my promises of fidelity, to thee I 
plighted my troth. That another — a liar and deceiver, should 
have inserted his odious name for thine, laid his dishonored 
hand in mine, has never bound me! I was, I am, I will ever 
be thine, so help me, God ! who heard the oath I swore, and 
knew that, swearing, I believed thee there ! ” 

“ And I could doubt her, my love, my wife ! Forgive me, 
Laura, that in my madness I should have accused thee.” 

“ All is forgotten, for I have thee here ! ” 

It was well for these impassioned lovers that a friend 
watched for them without. Lucretia had mounted guard for 
half an hour, when Victorine returned to say that the marquis 
would be glad to see his sister ; her visit had lasted long 
enough. 

“ Take my place, then, Victorine ; bolt the door, and admit 
nobody.” 

“ Oh, signora, if the marquis finds us out, he will assassi- 
nate me ! ” said Victorine, trembling. 

“ He will not find us out ; and you can very well endure 
some little uneasiness, when for a few nervous twitches you 
are to receive two thousand sequins. Think that, by to-night, 
you will be on your way to Paris.” 

“ Would to God I were there, away from this frightful rob- 
bers’ nest ! ” 

Lucretia laughed. “ You flatter the city of Venice. But I 
am not surprised that you are not in love with the Palazzo 
Strozzi, for when its master is contradicted, he is a rag- 


318 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ing tiger, whose thirst nothing save human blood will 
quench.” 

“ O God ! O Lord ! I am almost dead with fright ! ” 

“ Have patience, mademoiselle. Look at yonder clock on 
the mantel. Precisely at the expiration of one hour, come 
with your message to my brother’s cabinet. That will be the 
signal for your release. Are your effects out of the palace ? ” 

“ Yes, signora ; they are all at the hotel of the Marquis de 
ViUars.” 

“ And the gondola of the elector will be here to speak the 
prince’s adieux. Now remain just where you are ; and, instead 
of opening your ears to what is passing in yonder boudoir, 
make use of your leisure to say your prayers, which you may 
possibly have forgotten this morning.” 

The countess lifted up her long train, and, passing it over 
her arm, went on her way to meet the amiable Strozzi. 

“Really, Ottario,” said she, entering the cabinet, “your 
palace is singularly like a prison. As I came through the 
corridor, I felt as if I were passing over the Ponte de’ Sospiri. 
The atmosphere of the place is heavy with your jealous sighs.” 

“ True ; there is little happiness under the marble dome of 
my palace. But let us speak of other things. What can I do 
to serve you ? ” 

“ You seem to intimate that I can never desire to speak with 
you, except to ask a favor.” 

“ I find that, generally speaking, the case.” 

“ For once you are mistaken. I want nothing from you 
whatever.” 

“ You seem to have grown rich by some legerdemain or 
other, Lucretia. I hear that you have refitted your palace 
with great magnificence. Has Canossa come into a fortune ? 
or has he been winning at the card-table ? ” 

“ Neither ; but it was precisely of my newly acquired wealth 
that I came to speak with you. I am about to quit Venice, 
perhaps forever ; and before leaving I wished to have an ex- 
planation with you. ” 

“ Gracious Heaven ! who will take your place by Laura ? ” 

“Very flattering that my departure occasions no emotion 
in my brother’s fond heart, save regret for the loss of his spy ! 


THE LOVERS REUNITED. 


319 

But never mind, I overlook the slight, and proceed with my 
confession.” 

So Lucretia went over all the humiliations and hardships 
she had undergone within the past six months ; and, after 
dwelling pathetically upon her own sufferings, she related the 
manner of her meeting with the Elector of Bavaria, and its 
consequences. They loved each other to adoration ; he lav- 
ished every gift upon her that his wealth could purchase, and 
now she was about to give him substantial proof of her at- 
tachment, by going off with him to Munich. No mention 
was made, in the recital, of her episode with the French min- 
ister. 

The countess had barely arrived at the end of her confi- 
dences, when a knock was heard, and Mademoiselle Victorine 
walked in with a message from the marchioness. 

“ What message ? ” cried Strozzi, rising at once to receive it. 

“ Pardon me, excellenza, it is only a message for the sig- 
nora,” said Yictorine, courtesying. “ My lady wishes to know 
if the countess has the French book that she promised to bring 
to-day ? ” 

“ Dear me ! I had forgotten it,” cried the countess. “ But 
stay, Victorine, it is in the gondola below. Let little Filippo 
go after it.” 

“ Who is Filippo ? ” asked the marquis, frowning. 

“ My page, to be sure. Have you never seen him ? Of 
course I could not carry Mary Stuart’s long train up the stair- 
case without a page to help me.” 

“ And he is here, in the palace ? ” 

“ Of course he is : where else should the child be but here 
with me ? And, as I was not anxious to have him eavesdrop- 
ping about your cabinet while we were conversing, I gave him 
in charge to Victorine.” 

“ I shall discharge Beppo,” growled the marquis. How 
dared he — ” 

“ Let me intercede for poor Beppo,” laughed Lucretia. 
“ He would have kept out Filippo, but I insisted that your pro- 
hibition could not extend to boys, and I insisted upon having 
him to carry my train. Since his presence here annoys you, 
he shall be made to leave, and await me in my gondola.” 


320 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“But the book, signora,” said Yictorine, with quiver- 
ing lip. 

“ True— the book for Laura. Will you permit Yictorine to 
go with Filippo, and get it ? But bless me ! Without her pro- 
tection, Beppo would not allow him to pass. You consent for 
her to accompany him ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Strozzi, roughly. “ But if ever you come again, 
leave your page at home.” 

“ The watchword, signor ? ” asked Yictorine. 

“ Yenetia,” returned Strozzi. 

“ What ! ” exclaimed Lucretia, “ does Yictorine, too, need a 
password to leave the palace ? My dear brother, I admire your 
genius ! You are qualified to make a first-rate jailer.” 

Mademoiselle Yictorine had not tarried to hear the ironical 
compliment of the countess. She flew along the corridor to 
the apartments of the marchioness, and, first knocking at the 
door, she drew back the portiere. 

“ Your highness,” said she, “ the hour has expired.” Then 
dropping the portiere, that the lovers might part without wit- 
nesses, she waited without. 

Laura’s arms were around his neck. Eugene drew her 
passionately to his heart. “ Must I then go without thee ? ” 
murmured he. 

“ Yes, my Eugene ; this time thou goest alone. But be 
patient and hopeful, and thy spouse will find means to escape 
from her jailer.” 

“ I cannot go,” cried Eugene, despairingly. “ Nor can I 
leave my enemy’s house like a frightened cur, while the woman 
I love remains to bear his anger. He must — he shall renounce 
my wife ! ” 

“ That is, you would see me murdered before your eyes ! ” 
exclaimed Laura, well knowing what argument would move 
him most to discretion. “ Eugene, he has sworn to assassinate 
me, if I ever speak to you — and, believe me, he will keep his 
oath.” 

“ And I must leave my treasure in his bloodthirsty hands ? ” 
cried the prince, pressing her still more closely in his arms. 

“ The tiger will do me no harm, Eugene, if thou wilt go 
before he sees thee.” 


TIIE LOVERS REUNITED. 


321 


“ Your highness,” said Victorine, imploringly through the 
portiere, “ for God’s sake, tarry no longer ! ” 

Laura, freeing herself from his embrace, led him to the 
door. “ Farewell, my beloved,” said she. “ God is merciful, 
and will reunite us.” 

“ One more look into those dear eyes, one more kiss from 
those sweet lips.” 

“ Oh, your highness ! ” whispered Victorine, a second time. 

Laura raised the portiere, and led him forward. She saw 
Victorine reach him his mask, and then, darting hack into her 
boudoir, she fell upon her knees, and prayed for an hour. 

Meanwhile the Countess Lucretia was still discussing her 
affairs ; but she seemed to have become absent-minded, some- 
times stopping suddenly in her speech to listen, occasionally 
directing anxious glances toward the windows. 

The marquis was too keen for these symptoms to escape his 
penetration. 

“ Are you watching or waiting for any thing ? ” asked he. 

“ Yes,” replied she, “ I await something, and — oh ! there it 
is !” 

As she spoke these last words, a voice from the water called 
out three times : “ Addio ! addio ! addio ! ” 

“Do you know what that ‘addio’ signifies?” asked Lu- 
cretia. 

“ How can I understand the signals that pass between you 
and your loves ? ” 

“ I will tell you what it means,” said she, looking full into 
her brother’s face. “ I— but no ! your eyes glare too fiercely 
just now ; you are ready for a spring, and I dare not wait to 
be devoured. Addio, Ottario, addio. Take this note, and 
swear that you will not open it before ten minutes.” 

“ What childishness ! ” exclaimed Strozzi, rudely. 

“ You will not ? Then you shall not see its contents, which, 
nevertheless, concern your Laura.” 

“ Laura !— Then I swear that I will not open it before ten 
minutes.” 

“It is on the table. Be careful how you break your oath. 
You would not be safe were you to unfold that paper before 
ten minutes.” 


322 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


So saying, she kissed her hand, and tripped merrily away 
to her gondola. 

At the expiration of the time required, Strozzi took up the 
paper, and broke its seal. It contained the following : 

“ My Dear Brother : You sold me to Count Canossa, and 
you have degraded me to the trade of a spy. You have forced 
me, more than once, to play the dragon by your poor, unhappy 
wife ; but I have repaid her for my unkindness, and have 
avenged myself also. My little Filippo is Prince Eugene, and 
he is to remain alone with your wife, exactly as long as I con- 
verse with you in your cabinet. The three ‘ addios ’ which 
you will have heard ere this from the Canale, signify that the 
prince has reached his gondola, and is safe. Also that Made- 
moiselle Yictorine, my accomplice, has fled. You gave her 
ten ducats for each betrayal of her mistress ; we offered two 
thousand sequins, and of course she betrayed you. Addio ! ” 

To describe the fury of the marquis would be impossible. 
But his paroxysm of rage over, he at once began to revolve in 
his mind the means of revenge. 

“ There must be an end to this martyrdom,” said he. “ It 
must end ! ” He looked at the clock. “ ’Tis time Antonio 
were here, and he shall do it.” 

He struck three times on his little bell, and the door in the 
wall glided back, giving entrance to Antonio. 


CHAPTER VIII. 
antonio’s expiation. 

The next morning Antonio asked admittance to the cabinet 
of his new employer. 

“ Your highness,” said he, “ I have seen the marchioness.” 

“ What greeting does she send, good Antonio ? ” 

“ My lord, she awaits Filippo at eight o’clock this even- 
ing.” 


ANTONIO’S EXPIATION. 


323 


“ She awaits me ! ” echoed Eugene. “ And you are to con- 
duct me to her ? ” 

“Yes, my lord. I am acquainted with the secret passages 
of the palace. I will show you the way, and, as God in heaven 
hears me, I will bring you safely back.” 

“ How solemnly you speak, Antonio ! ” 

“ Ah, excellenza, it is easier to enter that palace than to 
leave it ! But you shall leave it in safety, as I hope to be saved 
from perdition ! ” 

“ At what hour did you say ? ” 

“ At eight this evening. And now, my lord, allow me to 
leave you for a time. The marquis requires me to remain at 
the palace, and I must be punctual, or he will suspect me. 
You will be obliged to engage another commissionnaire ; hut, 
believe me, I shall better serve you in the palace than 
here. ” 

Antonio was allowed to depart ; but instead of going toward 
the Strozzi palace, he betook himself to that of the Elector of 
Bavaria, where the household were in that state of confusion 
which precedes a departure. The elector had chosen to leave 
Venice by night. 

“ I have an important message from my lord, Prince Eu- 
gene of Savoy to his highness of Bavaria,” said Antonio, mak- 
ing his way through the busy throng of servants. “ Is he in 
his cabinet ? ” 

“ Yes. The chamberlain is in the anteroom. He will an- 
nounce you.” 

“His highness will receive the messenger of Prince Eu- 
gene,” was the reply ; and Antonio, having been admitted, had 
a conversation of some length with the elector, which left the 
latter in a state of great agitation. 

“ I wish it were in my power to render assistance ; but I 
dare not. He made me promise that I would not interfere in 
any way ; and I must keep my word. I would but act in the 
dark, and might ruin him. — And now to Lucretia, to devise 
other means of rescue, if these should fail — ” 

After leaving the elector, Antonio directed his steps toward 
the prison near the palace of the doge. The porter that stood 
near the grated door looked searchingly at the mask that pre- 


324 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


sumed to tarry before those dismal gates whereof he was the 
guardian. 

“ Would you earn a thousand sequins ? ” said Antonio, in a 
whisper. 

“How?” asked the porter, opening his eyes like two full 
moons. 

kt Do you know in which cell Catherina Giamberta is con- 
fined?” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“ Take this flower to her. It is her birthday, and she loves 
flowers. Tell her it comes from Antonio, and ask her to send 
him the ribbon she wears around her neck. If you return 
with it, I will give you one thousand sequins.” 

He handed the porter a large rose, whose stem was carefully 
wrapped in paper. Christiano scarcely saw what it was, so 
dazzled were his eyes by the approaching glitter of a thousand 
sequins. But he thrust it in his bosom, drew the bolts of his 
prison, and disappeared within its gloomy depths. 

Antonio leaned his head against the clammy prison-wall 
and waited. In half an hour the turnkey returned. 

“ Have you your thousand sequins with you ? ” asked he. 

“Here they are,” said Antonio, drawing from his cloak a 
purse, through whose dingy silk meshes the gold was visi- 
ble. 

The turnkey put his hand through the grate, and Antonio 
saw a faded, yellow paper, tied with a silken cord. He took 
the packet, and in return gave Christiano the purse. As he 
did so, he said : “ Make good use of it ; I have passed through 
five years of misery to earn it. Make good use of it, and if 
you will have a mass said for the repose of my soul, ’tis all I 
ask in addition to the service you have just rendered me.” 

He turned away, and, hurriedly taking the direction of St. 
Mark’s, entered a side-door, and stood within its sacred walls. 
The church was empty and dimly lighted. Antonio knelt 
down behind one of the pillars, and opened the paper. 

It contained a lock of golden hair — the hair of a child. 
The bravo pressed it to his lips, and, murmuring a few fond 
words, laid it lovingly upon his heart, and began to pray. 
When his prayer was ended, he approached a confessional 


THE DUNGEON. 


325 


wherein sat an old Benedictine monk, and, kneeling down, be- 
gan his confession. 

The recital was a long, and apparently a terrible one ; 
for more than once the monk shuddered, and his vener- 
able face was mournfully upraised as if in prayer for the 
penitent. When Antonio ceased, he remained silent, still 
praying. 

u Reverend father,” murmured the bravo, “ may I not re- 
ceive absolution for my sins ! ” 

“ Yes, my son, you shall receive such absolution as it rests 
with me to give. If, as I hope, you are truly repentant, God 
will do the rest. You have sinned grievously, but you are 
ready to expiate.” And the priest performed the ceremony of 
absolution. 

“ Reverend father, give me your blessing — your blessing in 
articulo mortis .” 

‘‘ Come hither and receive it.” 

Antonio emerged from the confessional, and knelt on the 
marble pavement, while the rays from a stained window above 
fell upon his head like a soft, golden halo. The priest, too, 
stepped out, and, laying his hand upon that bowed head, made 
the sign of the cross, and blessed him in articulo mortis. 
Then going slowly up the aisle, and kneeling within the 
sanctuary, he passed the night in praying for a soul that was 
about to depart this world. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DUNGEON. 

The clock on the Campanillo of St. Mark’s struck eight. 
The day of longing expectation had at last worn away, and 
Eugene was once more to be admitted to the presence of his 
beloved. 

Before leaving his cabinet he had sent for Antonio, and, 
reaching him a purse of gold, had said : u Here, my brave 
here are two hundred ducats. Take this purse, and, when you 


326 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


make use of its contents, remember that I gave it as a token of 
my gratitude for your fidelity and friendship.” 

“ No, your highness,” replied Antonio, in a tearful voice — 
“ no, your highness, I need no gold. If you would give me a 
souvenir, let me have the glove that has covered the right hand 
of a hero whose sword has never been unsheathed save in the 
cause of right. ” 

“Singular man,” exclaimed Eugene, “ take them both, and 
believe that I thank you for your attachment. And now, let 
us away ! ” 

“Yes, my lord ; but I implore you, not this rich cloak of 
velvet. Take this black wrapping of cloth ; it is more appro- 
priate for an adventure such as ours.” 

The little gondola lay moored at the stairs, without gondo- 
lier or light. Nobody was there except Eugene and Antonio, 
who rowed without help. They made for a channel leading 
to a wing of the Palace Strozzi, whose dark, frowning walls, 
unrelieved by one single opening, were laved by the foul and 
turbid waters of the narrow estuary. Antonio’s practised eye 
discovered the low opening that gave access to the palace ; 
and, after fastening his gondola to a ring in the wall, he 
knocked three times at the door. It was opened, and they en- 
tered a small vestibule, dimly lighted, where they were con- 
fronted by a man who asked for the password. 

Antonio whispered something in his ear, and they were 
permitted to ascend a steep, narrow staircase leading to a pas- 
sage so contracted that Eugene’s shoulders touched on either 
side, as he struggled along toward a second staircase. When 
they had reached the last step, Antonio said : “We have no 
farther to go. Pass in, signor, and, whatever ensues, remem- 
ber that you must patiently await my return.” 

A door opened, Eugene passed through, and it closed be- 
hind him. He was in a room of singular shape and construc- 
tion. It was a rotunda, whose blank walls were without open- 
ing whatsoever ; neither door nor window was to be seen 
therein. Suspended from the lofty ceiling was an iron chain, 
to which was attached a small lamp, whose light fell directly 
over a table that stood in the centre of the room. On the table 
lay a piece of bread and a glass of water ; near it was placed a 


THE DUNGEON. 397 

wooden chair, and this was all the furniture contained within 
the dismal apartment. 

“ A dungeon,” said Eugene to himself. “ One of those 
dungeons of which I have heard, but in whose existence I 
never believed until now.” 

He was perfectly collected ; but he comprehended his posi- 
tion, and knew that he had been betrayed. He had been lured 
into this secret prison, there to die without a sign ! But he 
must make one desperate effort to escape. Death he could 
confront — even the death that stared him in the face ; but to 
know that Laura would be doomed to a life of utter wretched- 
ness, was a thought that almost unsettled his reason. 

He surveyed the place, and then felt every stone, every 
crevice, that came within his reach. As he raised his mourn- 
ful eyes to look above him, the wall just below the ceiling be- 
gan to move, a small window was opened, aud within its iron 
frame appeared a pale, sinister face — the face of the Marquis 
de Strozzi. 

Eugene tore the mask from his face, and his large eyes 
flashed with scorn. 

“ Assassin ! ” cried he, “ cowardly assassin ! ” 

The marquis laughed ; he could afford to laugh. “ Yes,” 
said he, “ I am any thing you may please to term me ; but you, 
Prince of Savoy, are no longer among the living. Your days 
are numbered : farewell ! ” 

The window closed, and the wall moved slowly back until 
no trace of the opening was to be seen. A dungeon ! A 
grave ! Eugene of Savoy would die of hunger ! no human 
ear would hear his dying plaint ; within a few steps of one 
that loved him he would disappear from earth ; and, until the 
great day whereon hell would yield up its secrets of horror to 
the Eternal Judge, his fate would remain a mystery ! Alas ! 
alas ! And was this to be the end of his aspirations for 
glory ? 

But hark ! What sound is that ? The invisible door, for 
which he had been groping in vain, was once more opened, 
and Antonio glided noiselessly into the room. 

He raised his hand in token of warning. <k Not a word, my 
lord,” whispered he. “ I come to save you.” 


I 


328 PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 

“ To save me, traitor ! You, the despicable tool of 
Strozzi ? ” 

“ Oh, my lord ! Have mercy, have mercy ! Every mo- 
ment is precious : listen to me, listen to me ! ” 

Antonio sank on his knees, the mask dropped from his face, 
and his pale, suffering countenance wore any aspect but that 
of treachery. 

“In the name of the Marchioness Laura Bonaletta, hear 
me,” said he, imploringly. 

“ Laura Bonaletta ! ” echoed Eugene, in a voice of pierc- 
ing anguish. “ What can such as you know of Laura Bona- 
letta ? ” 

Antonio gave him a folded paper containing these few 
lines : “ If thou lovest me, do as Antonio bids thee. If thou 
wouldst not have me die of grief, accept thy life from An- 
tonio’s hands, and oh, love ! believe me, we shall meet again. 
Thy Laura.” 

Eugene pressed the paper to his lips, and when he looked 
at Antonio again, his eye had lost its sternness, and about his 
lips there fluttered a sad smile. 

“ What does this mean, Antonio ? ” said he. 

“ Excellenza, it means that I was a hardened sinner until 
you rescued my soul from perdition. Would that I had time 
to lay before you the sins of my whole life, that you might 
know from what depths of crime you delivered me ! But time 
is precious. I can only say that I am no brave soldier that 
was scarred in battle. This wound upon my face was from 
the hand of my father, and, for the crime of his murder, my 
right hand was hewed by the arm of the executioner. Nay — 
do not start, my dear, dear lord ! ’Tis you that brought me to 
repentance ; ’tis you that inspired me to seek reconciliation 
with Heaven. I came to you a bravo — the emissary of the 
Marquis Strozzi ; but when you touched my mutilated arm 
with your honored hand — when you trusted me because you 
believed me to be brave — I swore in my heart that you at least 
I would not betray. ’Tis true, I led you hither where Strozzi 
would have left you to die of hunger. Ah, my lord ! you are 
not the first that has looked upon these cruel walls. Giuseppi, 
the gondolier whom the countess loved — he, too, poor youth, 


THE DUNGEON. 


329 


came hither — and six days after I was sent for his corpse, and 
consigned it to the sullen waters of the lagoon, that covers the 
secrets of Strozzi’s atrocious murders.” 

“ But why, then, did you not warn me ? ” 

“ Because Strozzi would have murdered me, and employed 
another man to betray you into his hands. Or, if you had be- 
lieved me, you might have remained in Venice, and you must 
fly this very night — this very hour. Until you are safe, Strozzi 
must believe that.you are his prisoner.” 

“ Am I, then, forever doomed to turn my back upon this 
man?” 

“ My lord, my lord, no vain scruples ! The Marchioness 
Bonaletta will die if you do not live to rescue her from his 
tyranny. ” 

Eugene grasped his arm. “ Ah, yes, indeed ! Then come, 
Antonio — let us fly.” 

“ My dear lord, one man only can leave this room. The 
porter is ready with his dagger if both should attempt to 
pass.” 

“You would remain here in my place ! You would sacri- 
fice your life to liberate me, Antonio ! ” 

“ The parricide would fain be at rest,” replied Antonio, 
gently. “ The sinner would gladly suffer death, that, expiat- 
ing his crimes, he may hope to be forgiven by his Maker.” 

“ Never will I purchase life at such a price,” was the reply 
of the prince. 

“ My life is accursed,” said Antonio ; “ my death will be 
triumphant. My lord, if you knew how I longed for death, 
you would not refuse me the blessing I covet. My Catherina 
ere this awaits me in the other world ; I long to rejoin her — I 
long to obtain the pardon of my murdered father.” 

Eugene’s face was buried in his hands, and he was weeping. 
“ I cannot, I cannot,” gasped he. 

“ You would drive your Laura to despair, then ? You would 
go to your grave without renown ? ” 

“ No ; I would live. Come : we can overpower the porter 
— if nothing less will save us, we can kill him.” 

“ Before he dies he will call for help, and help will be 
near. But one of us can escape ; and, by my eternal salva- 
22 


330 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


tion, I swear that I will not be that one ! Away with you ! 
Away ! In a moment it will be too late ! Do you not hear 
me ? Whether you go or stay, I never will leave this place 
again ! ” 

Eugene staggered against the wall, and sighed heavily. 
Antonio knelt at his feet. At last he murmured almost in- 
audibly, “ I will go.” 

Antonio sprang from his knees, threw his cloak around the 
prince, and, with eager, trembling hands, adjusted his mask. 

“ Thank God ! ” said he, “ we are of the same size and build. 
There is not the least danger of recognition. The porter will 
suspect nothing. The password is, ‘ One of two. ’ The gondola 
is moored in the place where we left it, and your friends are at 
the landing, awaiting you now. The marchioness knows that 
you are to leave Venice to-night. God in heaven bless you. 
And now away ! ” 

“Antonio,” replied Eugene, greatly affected, “with my 
latest breath I will bless and thank you.” 

Then folding the bravo in his arms, he would have spoken 
his thanks again, but Antonio hurried him away, closed the 
door, and then fell upon his knees to pray. 

The password was spoken, the door was opened, and Eugene 
was saved ! He sprang into the gondola, and it flew across 
those sullen waters like an arrow. As he reached the landing, 
a well-known voice called out, “ Eugene ! ” 

“ Max Emmanuel, I am here ! ” was the reply, and the 
friends were locked in each other’s arms. 

At length the elector spoke : — “ I have confronted death,” 
said he, “but never in my life have I passed an hour of such 
anguish as this. Come, Eugene, yonder lies the ship that is 
to bear us away from this sin-laden city. Step into my gon- 
dola, we have not a moment to lose.” 

They rowed to the ship’s side ; they mounted the ladder, 
.and before the dawn of day Venice with her palaces and their 
secret prisons had disappeared, and the friends were far on their 
way to Trieste. 


BOOK V. 


CHAPTER I. 

A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 

The winter of 1688 had gone by ; the snows were melting 
from the bosom of reviving earth ; and the trees that bordered 
the avenues of the Prater were bursting into life. At the 
court of Austria nobody welcomed spring ; for its approach 
betokened the cessation of gayety, and the resumption of 
hostilities. The year 1687 had been rendered illustrious in 
the annals of Austrian history, by Charles of Lorraine, who, 
on the 12th of August, had gained a signal victory over the 
Turks. The rebellion in Hungary, if not suppressed, was 
smothered ; for the weary and exhausted Magyars had been 
totally crushed by the iron heel of General Caraffa, and they 
had submitted to Austria. The conditions of the surrender 
were hard : they demanded the relinquishment of some of the 
dearest rights of the liberty-loving Hungarians. First, they 
were to renounce all right of resistance against the King of 
Hungary ; second, they were no longer to elect their own sov- 
ereigns ; the crown of Hungary was made hereditary in the 
house of the Emperors of Austria. The Archduke Joseph, 
then ten years of age, was crowned king ; and the Hungarians 
were compelled to take the oath of allegiance to this irrespon- 
sible sovereign. 

This being a decisive victory, the campaign ended early, 
and the season of festivity had therefore been a prolonged one. 
Not only the aristocracy of Vienna had celebrated the heroism 
of the victors by balls, concerts, and assemblies, but the em- 
peror himself sometimes prevailed upon his retiring and de- 
vout empress to participate in the national gayety, by giving 
entertainments to her subjects at the imperial palace. 

( 381 ) 


332 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 



It was the festival of the Empress Eleanora, and the day 
was to be celebrated by the production of a new opera, entitled 
“ II Pomo d’Oro. ” The rehearsals had been superintended by 
the emperor in person ; he had suggested and directed the 
scenery and decorations, and, to the great scandal of his con- 
fessor, Father Bischof, Leopold had more than once curtailed 
his devotions, to attend these rehearsals. 

On the day of the performance the emperor retired early to 
his dressing-room, and, to honor the festival of his consort, 
arrayed himself with imperial magnificence. His doublet was 
of cloth of gold, edged with fringe of the same ; his cloak of 
purple velvet, richly embroidered, was fastened on the shoul- 
der by an agraffe of superb diamonds. The breeches, reaching 
to the knee, were of velvet, like the cloak : and the hose, like 
the doublet, were of cloth of gold. The shoes of purple velvet 
were fastened with buckles of diamonds to correspond with 
the agraffe of the cloak. His ruff was of gold lace, his hat was 
decorated with a long white plume, and on his breast he wore 
the splendid order of the Golden Fleece. 

When Leopold entered his music-room, Kircherus, who 
was there, awaiting him, could not repress an exclamation of 
wonder at the dazzling apparition. 

“ You are amazed at my magnificence,” said the emperor, 
laughing. 

“ Your majesty, say rather that I am struck with admira- 
tion than with amazement. You are as glorious as the god of 
day ; and if the Muses were to trip by, they would surely mis- 
take you for their Phoebus, and, quitting Parnassus, make 
themselves at home in Vienna.” 

“ And be driven away with contumely ; for, being heathen 
maidens, Father Bischof would speedily exorcise and exile 
them back to Greece. And now tell me what you think of the 
new opera. Do you expect it to be successful ? ” 

“ Indeed I do, your majesty. It is, to my mind, heavenly.” 

“ And to mine also. ’Tis the very music with which to lull 
the dying soul to rest. I have spared nothing to bring it out 
handsomely, and it has certainly been a golden apple to my 
purse, for it has already cost me thirty thousand ducats. But 
I tell you this in confidence, Kircherus : were my generals to 


A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 333 

hear of it, they would cry out that money is to be had for 
every thing except the army.” 

“ I wish there were no army to swallow up your majesty’s 
resources, and that we might be allowed to enjoy our music in 
peace,” growled Kireherus. 

“ Hush, Kireherus ; you are an artiste, and know nothing 
of the exigencies of political existence. I would I were such 
a heavenly idiot as you ; but God has decreed otherwise. It is 
my duty to declare war or peace, as becomes the ruler of a 
great people ; and so disinclined am I to strife, and so inclined 
to peaceful arts, that I sometimes think I have been purposely 
thwarted by God, and cast upon an epoch of perplexity and 
dissension, that my character might be invigorated by its exi- 
gencies. Even now I go reluctantly from art, to hold a coun- 
cil of war. I fear it is about to be anything but amicable ; so, 
do your best to console me on my return, and see that all goes 
well as regards the opera. ” 

The officers of the war department had been for more than 
half an hour awaiting the appearance of the emperor. One 
only was absent, the Duke of Lorraine, who had excused him- 
self on a plea of indisposition. 

“ He is craftier than I had supposed,” said the Margrave of 
Baden to his nephew. “ He avoids the unpleasant responsi- 
bilities of debate, and shields himself behind the orders of the 
emperor.” 

“Because he awaits a reappointment to the chief com- 
mand,” replied Louis. “ For him is the glory of our victories ; 
for us the danger. But I have a missile to throw into the 
camp of the enemy ; it is from Max Emmanuel, who votes 
with us.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! ” said the margrave, with a satisfied air. 
“ Then I think we may hope to thwart this insolent pretender, 
who considers me incapable of directing the war department 
of Austria.” 

“ He has offered me a public affront,” returned Louis, in- 
dignantly. “ I had a right to command the Slavonian cav- 
alry ; and he bestowed it upon Dunewald, who is nothing but 
his creature. I have therefore followed the example of Max 
Emmanuel, and shall resign my commission to-day.” 


334 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I would give millions if, after your defection, lie were de- 
feated by the Turks. But he has the most unconscionable 
luck. And then, that silly Prince of Savoy, who blows such 
blasts in his praise. Louis, you ought not to be so intimate 
with Prince Eugene — he is one of our enemies.” 

“ Oh no,” replied Louis, smiling. “ Eugene is the enemy 
of no man. Say nothing against him, uncle, if you love me. 
He is a youth of noble spirit, incapable of envy ; recognizing 
every soldier’s merit except his own. Our cousin of Savoy is 
destined to become a great man.” 

“ He is already a great man,” replied the margrave, with a 
sneer. “ Not twenty-five years of age, and a knight of the 
Golden Fleece — a protege of the emperor, the favorite of 
Charles of Lorraine ! ” 

At this moment the doors were opened, and Leopold, fol- 
lowed by a small, slender officer, entered the council-chamber. 

“ The Prince of Savoy ! ” muttered the margrave, impa- 
tiently. 

“ Eugene ! ” said Louis to himself, as, bowing his head with 
the rest, he wondered what could be the meaning of his cous- 
in’s presence. 

“ My lords,” said the emperor, taking his seat, “ I have in- 
vited Prince Eugene of Savoy to assist at this council — not 
only as a listener, but as one of us ; and I shall call upon him 
to give his opinion as such, upon the matters that come under 
discussion to-day.” 

“ Pardon me, your majesty, if, as president of this council, 
I remind you that the Prince of Savoy is too young and inex- 
perienced for such a discussion, and that no man in active 
service, under the rank of a field-marshal, ever participates in 
the debates of the war department.” 

“ Your highness is quite right, and I thank you for the re- 
minder. We have no desire to infringe the etiquette of the 
council-chamber ; and as we have invited the prince therein, 
we must repair our oversight by qualifying him to sit. — Prince 
of Savoy, we hereby create you field-marshal, and trust that, 
as such, you may win so many laurels that the world will par- 
don your youth in favor of your genius.” 

Eugene crimsoned to his temples, and kissed the hand 


A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 


335 


which Leopold extended. “My liege,” said he, in a voice 
choked with emotion, “ your majesty heaps coals of fire on 
my head. May God give me grace to earn these unparalleled 
honors ! ” 

“ You have already earned them,” replied Leopold, “ and 
Austria is proud to have won such a hero to her cause. — And 
now, my lords, to business. President of the council, what is 
the condition of our army at present ? ” 

“ Your majesty, the army is not, as yet, armed and provi- 
sioned ; but it will be in a condition to oppose the enemy as 
soon as the marshes of Hungary are sufficiently dry to allow 
of an advance. ” 

“ That means simply that nothing has been done,” replied 
the emperor, in tones of dissatisfaction, “ and that the winter 
has been spent in total inaction. It means also that this year 
as well as last our soldiers are to feel the want of the neces- 
saries of life ; and that for lack of money, munition, and 
stores, our most advantageous marches will have- to be relin- 
quished.” 

“ I see that the Duke of Lorraine has already accused and 
calumniated me,” said the margrave, sullenly. 

“The Duke of Lorraine has at times complained of the 
want of munition, stores, and forage ; but he neither calum- 
niates nor accuses any one. He has remarked that, instead of 
being sustained by the war department, he has been hampered 
and harassed by its opposition to his plans. Even his officers 
have manifested a spirit of such insubordination, that they 
have seriously interfered with his successes.” 

“ That means that he has complained of me,” interposed 
Louis of Baden. 

“ Yes, margrave, it does ; and we are both surprised that a 
hero of your recognized ability and renown should fail in a 
soldier’s first duty — obedience to orders.” 

“Your majesty,” exclaimed Louis, “I am no subordinate 
officer to receive or obey orders from another ! I am an inde- 
pendent prince of the German empire, in every respect the 
equal of the Duke of Lorraine.” 

“ Except as an officer in the Austrian army,” replied Leo- 
pold, “ in which character the Duke of Lorraine is your chief. 


336 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


You have not sufficiently considered this matter of your rank 
as an officer in my service ; let me hope that, for the future, 
you will acknowledge and respect the authority of your com- 
mander-in-chief. I myself have found him ever ready to 
acknowledge and respect mine.” 

“ The will of the emperor, to us, is law,” said the Margrave 
Herman. “ But your imperial majesty has hitherto exacted 
of your officers that they should receive your mandates 
through the medium of the minister of war. The Duke of 
Lorraine, who claims such strict obedience from others, has 
set at defiance the mandates issued from this council-chamber. 
As president of the same, I complain of the insubordination of 
your majesty’s commander-in-chief. He has not carried out 
the orders received from the war department.” 

“ He would have been more than mortal had he done so ; 
for the war department has required of him feats that were 
physically impossible. We can trace out upon this green 
cloth before me any number of strategic movements, which, 
supposing the enemy to be of one mind with ourselves, would 
annihilate him beyond a doubt. But as he is apt to do the 
very reverse of what we would prescribe, the man upon whom 
rests the responsibility of confronting him, must use his rea- 
son, and modify orders according to circumstances. What is 
to be , you cannot include in your paper plans of attack ; but 
the Duke of Lorraine has met every emergency as it present- 
ed itself on the field, and every true Austrian should be his 
friend.” 

“Your majesty,” cried the margrave, greatly irritated, 
“ the president of this council must nevertheless persist in his 
conviction that the highest court of military jurisdiction is 
here, and that the commander-in-chief of the army is its sub- 
ordinate.” 

“ You mistake the extent of its power,” replied the emper- 
or, with composure. “It is merely expected of the general- 
in-chief that he act in concert with the war department.” 

“ Which the Duke of Lorraine has never done ! ” cried the 
margrave, impetuously. 

“ Perhaps the blame lay in the injudicious exactions of the 
minister of war,” replied Leopold, carelessly ; “ and if, despite 


A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 


337 


of all the obstacles that were placed in his way, he has sub- 
dued Hungary, you have no part in his glory, my lord ; for in 
every case your judgment has been contrary to his.” 

“ It follows, then, that I have not filled my office to the satis- 
faction of your majesty,” said the margrave, choking with anger. 

‘‘ I regret to say that I have less confidence in your judg- 
ment than in your ability, my lord ; the former is unhappily 
often obscured by prejudice,” replied Leopold, calmly. 

“ Your majesty,” cried the margrave, “ in this case I shall 
feel compelled — ” 

“ I do not wish you to say or do any thing on compulsion, 
my lord ; I prefer to assign you a position in which your tal- 
ents, being unfettered by your antipathies, will shine with 
undimmed lustre. You have complained of late that the 
duties of the war department have become irksome to you ; if 
so, I can give you an appointment less onerous to you, but 
equally important to the state. I am just now in need of an 
intelligent representative before the imperial Diet. This 
charge I commit to you, premising that you must start for 
your post immediately, that you may infuse some life into the 
stagnant councils of the ambassadors of the princes of Ger- 
many.” 

“ Your majesty wishes to banish me from court ? ” asked 
the margrave, pale with anger. 

“ Certainly not, your highness,” replied the emperor, gen- 
tly. u I send you on an honorable embassy, and one whereat 
I need a capable and fearless advocate. The question to be 
decided before the imperial Diet is one of life or death to Aus- 
tria, nay — to Germany. France is evidently preparing for 
war with the German empire. Her fortresses on the eastern 
frontier are all garrisoned ; her. troops are approaching ; and 
under some pretext or other, they will cross our boundary 
lines. This being the case, the princes of the empire must 
cease their everlasting petty dissensions, and band themselves 
together for the defence of Germany. Be it your task to 
strengthen the bond of unity between them, and to convince 
them that in close alliance with Austria safety is to be found 
for all. I know of no man who can serve my interests at 
Regensburg as well as you, my lord ; while, happily, I can 


338 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


find a substitute for your presidential chair at home, in Count 
von Starhemberg. And now, farewell ; and let me hear from 
you as soon as possible. ” 

The emperor extended his hand to the margrave, who, 
scarcely able to control his dissatisfaction, barely raised it to 
his lips, and hurried away. 

“My lords,” said the emperor, “let us proceed to business. 
The spring is nigh, and a new campaign is about to be planned. 
Count von Starhemberg, as president of this assembly, will be 
so good as to impart his views.” 

Count von Starhemberg bowed : — “ Your majesty, it ap- 
pears to me that our policy is to avoid a general engagement. 
The end of this campaign is the reduction of Belgrade, and 
great precaution must be used if we are to succeed. I would 
divide the army, so as to begin operations at three points si- 
multaneously, and weaken the enemy, by scattering his forces. 
By detaching, we can easily defeat them, and capture their 
arsenals. This accomplished, we proceed to Belgrade, and, 
with the conquest of this Turkish stronghold, we end not only 
the campaign, but the war.” 

As Von Starhemberg concluded this harangue, the emperor 
addressed himself to Prince Louis of Baden. 

“ Your majesty,” replied he, “ I have no opinion to offer, 
for my views coincide altogether with those of Count von Star- 
hemberg.” 

“ And you, Count von Kinsky ? ” 

“ Your majesty, I sustain the president.” 

The same replies were forthcoming from Counts Liechten- 
stein and Puchta, and the emperor, having heard each one, 
relapsed into silence. After a pause, he spoke. “ There 
reigns a remarkable unanimity of opinion here, among the 
councils of the war department,” said he, with some emphasis. 
“ Five members having but one mind as to the prosecution of 
the war ! Not one variation from the plan of the president — 
not one suggestion — not even from so experienced and able a 
general as Louis of Baden ! This is singular and surprising. 
We have yet to hear the youngest member of the council. 
Field-Marshal Prince of Savoy, speak without restraint, and 
fear not to express your own views.” 


A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 


339 


“ Pardon me, your majesty,” said Eugene, blushing, “ if I 
venture to dissent from the opinions expressed by those who 
are my seniors in years, and my superiors in experience. But 
it is the duty of a man, when called upon to speak, to speak 
honestly ; and I should be untrue to my most earnest convic- 
tions, were I to give in my adherence to the plan proposed.” 

Amazement was depicted upon the faces of the assembled 
councillors ; not only amazement, but disapprobation of Eu- 
gene’s boldness. The emperor, however, looked kindly at the 
prince, and bade him proceed. 

“ With your majesty’s permission, I am of the opinion that 
the entire army be concentrated in an attack upon Belgrade. 
To divide our forces will enfeeble them doubly ; their numbers 
would be inconsiderable, and their command by one chief, im- 
possible. Division is weakness — concentration is strength. 
Belgrade is our goal, and to Belgrade let us march at once. 
Let us possess the key of Turkey, and then we can make con- 
ditions with the Sultan.” 

“ I honor your frankness, prince,” replied the emperor. “ I 
should respect it, were my opinion on the subject adverse to 
yours. But it is not. My lords, I regret that we are not all of 
one mind ; but I must decide in favor of the campaign as pro- 
posed by Field-Marshal Eugene of Savoy. I cannot consent 
to have the army crippled by division ; we must put forth all 
our strength, if we are to lay siege to Belgrade, and to this one 
end let our warlike preparations be directed.” 

“Your majesty’s will is law,” replied Count von Starhem- 
berg. “ It only remains for you to name the one to whom the 
chief command of the Austrian forces is to be intrusted.” 

“ It is to be intrusted to him who has commanded it with 
such signal ability— to the Duke of Lorraine, my lord.— And 
now, gentlemen,” added the emperor, rising, “the sitting is 
ended.” 

“ Your majesty,” interposed Louis of Baden, “I crave a few 
moments more.” 

The emperor gave consent, and the young prince came for- 
ward and spoke. 

“Your majesty, the chief command of the army being 
given to the Duke of Lorraine, it follows that neither the 


340 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Elector of Bavaria nor I have any independent position ; we 
are to obey the orders of the Duke of Lorraine. This being 
the case, Max Emmanuel has commissioned me to announce 
with the utmost respect that it does not become a reigning 
prince to be the instrument of any other man’s will. His 
subjects have already complained of the subordinate rank of 
their sovereign, and he cannot allow their sense of honor to be 
wounded by a renewal of such affront. He therefore tenders 
his resignation. He will withdraw the Bavarian troops, and 
take no part in your majesty’s projected campaign against the 
Turks, ” 

“We shall take time to consider the subject,” replied Leo- 
pold, in a tone of unconcern, “ and will speak with the elector 
in person. Have you anything else to say ? ” 

“ Yes, your majesty,” said Louis. “ I, also, consider it be- 
neath my dignity to serve under a foreign prince, and I owe it 
to my own self-respect to act with the elector, and to tender my 
resignation.” 

The emperor looked searchingly at the troubled counte- 
nance of the margrave, who blushed beneath his gaze, and cast 
down his eyes. 

“ And you, too, would abandon your colors ? ” asked Leo- 
pold. 

The eyes of the margrave flashed fire. “I false to my 
colors ! ” exclaimed he. 

“You,” repeated the emperor. “With your rank, as Mar- 
grave of Baden, I have nothing to do. You are an officer in 
my army, and have taken the oath of allegiance to me, as 
your lord and emperor. I ask you if you deem it honorable 
to desert your flag on the eve of a campaign ? Do we not call 
such conduct by the name of cowardice ? ” 

“Your majesty,” cried Louis, vehemently, “la — ! ” 

“ I do not speak of you,” interrupted Leopold, calmly. “ I 
ask you, if, at the moment of engaging the enemy, one of your 
ablest officers were to come to you with the proposition you 
have just made to me, by what word would you characterize 
the act ? ” 

“ Your majesty — I — I — ” stammered the margrave. 

. “You cannot answer, my lord, but I will answer for you. 


A TWOFOLD VICTORY. 


341 


You would say to sucli a man, ‘ He who deserts his post in the 
hour of danger is a coward.’ But you, Margrave of Baden, are a 
man of honor, and therefore you will withhold your vaulting 
ambition. You will not strive with the destiny which makes 
Charles of Lorraine an older and more experienced, but not a 
braver man than you ; but you will return to your duty, and 
emulate his greatness. Ambition is inseparable from valor ; 
but it must be checked by reason, or it degenerates into envy. 
What would you thiilk of a crown prince who should feel hu- 
miliated at his subordinate rank when compared with that of 
his father ? When you entered my service, the Duke of Lor- 
raine was already general-in-chief of the armies of Austria ; 
and, as he has always led them to victory, it would be in the 
highest degree unjust to supersede him by another. He who 
would command, must first learn to obey. Margrave of Ba- 
den, I cannot accept your resignation.” 

“ I will do my duty,” replied Louis, bowing low before the 
emperor’s reproof. I submit myself to your majesty’s de- 
cision, and remain. ’ 

“Say, rather,” returned Leopold, smiling affectionately 
upon the young prince, “ say rather that you go, for the cam- 
paign must open at once. Be diligent, Count von Starhem- 
berg ; inaugurate your preparations this very day ; and you, 
Field-Marshal Prince of Savoy, hasten to Innspruck, to com- 
municate to the Duke of Lorraine the result of our council of 
war.” 

“ I thank your majesty,” replied Eugene, “ for this gracious 
command. May I be permitted to retire, and make my prepa- 
rations to leave ? ” 

The emperor bowed his head, and addressed the Margrave 
of Baden. “ As there is no such urgency attending the move- 
ments of your highness, I will be happy to consider you as 
my guest, and shall expect the pleasure of your company at 
the opera. — You also, gentlemen,” added he to the other mem- 
bers of the war department. “ The empress is already in the 
theatre, awaiting our coming.” 

And with these words, the emperor, followed by his council- 
lors, left the room. Without, the court was waiting to accom- 
pany him ; and, when the lord-chamberlain had announced 


342 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


to the world that his majesty the emperor was about to 
visit the opera, the long, brilliant cortege set itself in mo- 
tion. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE DUMB MUSIC. 

f 

The court entered the theatre. The emperor’s suite took 
possession of the boxes on either side of the one appropriated 
to the imperial family, while Leopold, followed by Prince 
Eugene, whom he delighted to honor, entered the imperial box. 

“ I wish to present our new field- marshal to the empress,” 
said he to his courtiers. 

The empress was seated in one corner of the box, busily en- 
gaged with a piece of embroidery. She was so absorbed in the 
mysteries of silk and golden stitching, that she scarcely re- 
marked the entrance of the court. For a moment her eyes 
met those of the emperor, to whom she bowed and smiled ; 
then, bending her head again, she resumed her work. 

The emperor took a seat by her, and watched her flying fin- 
gers with affectionate interest. “ Your majesty is unusually 
industrious to-day,” said he, smiling, and touching the em- 
broidery. 

“ I was merely beguiling the hour of expectation which has 
passed away with your majesty’s presence, by completing a 
flower on this altar-cloth, intended for the chapel of the 
blessed Eleanor, my namesake.” 

“ The blessed Eleanor must excuse you to-day if I claim 
your presence here,” replied the emperor. “ And let me im- 
plore you for a while to fold those busy hands, and give your 
attention to the music which has been gotten up for your es- 
pecial gratification.” 

The empress quietly folded her work, and rose from her 
tabouret. 

“ Allow me to present to your majesty the youngest field- 
marshal in the army,” said Leopold, signing to Eugene to ad- 
vance. 


THE DUMB MUSIC. 


343 


“ I congratulate your highness,” replied the empress, while 
Eugene knelt and kissed her hand. “ Are you, indeed, so very 
young, prince ? ” 

“ No, your majesty,” said he, sadly. “ I am so old, that I 
wonder my hair is not gray.” * 

“ Indeed ! How old are you, then ? ” 

“Your majesty, I am forty-six years of age,” replied 
Eugene. 

“ Why, how can you say such a thing,” exclaimed Leopold, 
“ when everybody knows you to be just twenty-three ? ” 

“ Your majesty, are not the years of active service reckoned 
by the soldier as double ? ” 

“ Yes, assuredly, my young field-marshal.” 

“ Then, my liege, I am forty-six years of age, for my life 
has been one long war with troubles and trials.” 

The empress looked sympathizingly into the deep, sad eyes 
of the young prince, and saw that he spoke the truth. 

“ Have you then had many sorrows ? ” asked she, gently. 

“ Ay, your majesty ; I have struggled and suffered since 
childhood, for I have ever been a soldier of misfortune.” 

“ But you are no longer one,” said Leopold, laying his hand 
upon Eugene’s shoulder ; “ you have taken the oath of alle- 
giance to Austria, and misfortune has now no claim upon you.” 

Eugene looked up, and the face of the emperor was beaming 
with kindness. “ Whatever betide, my liege,” returned he, “ I 
am yours for life, and Austria is my land of adoption.” 

“ I am glad to hear it ; and now there is but one thing 
wanting to make you a subject after my own heart. You 
must marry an Austrian wife that shall make you as happy a 
husband as myself, and transform earth into heaven, as her 
majesty has done for me. It is in commemoration of my own 
happiness that I have chosen the opera of ‘ II Porno d’Oro’ to 
celebrate the empress’s festival. ‘II Porno d’Oro’ — that is, a 
happy union — the golden apple of paradise.” 

And the emperor, enchanted to have turned the conversa- 
tion to a subject which was to him of supreme interest, offered 
his arm to the empress, and conducted her to the front of the 
box. 

As soon as their majesties appeared, the spectators rose and 


3 44 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


cheered them enthusiastically. The imperial pair took their 
seats, and behind them stood Prince Eugene, the only other 
occupant of the box. 

The emperor now waved his hand as a signal to the marshal 
of the household, who, raising his gilded staff, conveyed the 
imperial command to the leader of the orchestra. “ His maj- 
esty is graciously pleased that the opera shall commence,” cried 
the lord- chamberlain. 

The leader bowed to the emperor, and took his place, which 
was conspicuously raised above that of the other musicians. 

“ His majesty is graciously pleased to allow all present to he 
seated,” was the second cry of the emperor’s mouth-piece. 
And now was heard a rustling of ladies’ silks, and of cavaliers’ 
velvets, and the grateful spectators took their seats, while the 
emperor, with a look of extreme satisfaction, opened the score 
of the Porno d’Oro, laid it on the ledge of the box, and began 
to hum the overture. 

“ Have you your text-hook ? ” asked he of the empress. “ I 
ordered one for your especial use ; a synopsis of the opera, with 
the principal airs only. I hope that you received it. This one 
is too heavy for you.” 

The empress pointed to a purple-velvet hook at her side, and 
slightly bowed her head. 

Leopold nodded, much pleased, and then gave his attention 
to the stage. ^ 

The audience breathlessly awaited the opening. The leader 
flourished his baton. The violins raised their hows, the haut- 
boys and horns were clapped to the mouths of their respective 
performers, bass-viols were seized, harps were clutched, and 
drumsticks were raised in the air. 

Nevertheless, not a sound was heard from the orchestra ! 

The emperor looked up from his score, and there, to be sure, 
was the leader, his baton going from left to right — there were 
the violins busy with their bows ; the wind instruments were 
blowing for dear life ; the harpists were tugging at their 
strings ; the drumsticks were going with all their might — and 
not a sound ! The musicians might just as well have been so 
many phantoms. 

The emperor, in his bewilderment, turned to the empress, 


THE DUMB MUSIC. 


345 


who was so profoundly engaged with her score, that she mur- 
mured the words thereof half aloud. 

“ Do you hear the music ? ” asked her husband. 

She started a little, and, blushing deeply, looked very much 
confused. “Yes, yes,” replied she, absently; “it is very 
fine.” 

“ I must then have lost my hearing,” said Leopold ; “ for I 
hear nothing.” And a second time he glanced at the orchestra, 
where the music was proceeding with the utmost energy. 

“ I cannot unriddle the mystery,” thought the emperor, “ for 
the empress hears the music and pronounces it fine. Prince 
Eugene,” added he, aloud, “ Do you hear any thing ? ” 

“Not a sound, your majesty.” 

The emperor, looking very much relieved, beckoned to the 
lord-chamberlain, and sent him to inquire into the matter. 

The audience, meanwhile, were quite as astounded as their 
sovereign. However, after a time they began to whisper and 
smile ; and finally, as the drummer performed an extra flour- 
ish with his drumsticks, a voice was heard to cry out, “ Bravo ! 
bravo ! ” 

This was the signal for a general burst of laughter, which 
the marshal of the household, though he shook his baton furi- 
ously, was impotent to quell. While the merriment was at 
its height the lord-chamberlain returned, and his countenance 
was expressive of extreme indignation. 

Leopold, who for a moment had forgotten his Spanish for- 
mality, and had retired to the back of the box, advanced eager- 
ly to meet him. 

“ What says the leader ? ” asked he, hastily. 

“ The leader, your majesty, is in despair, and is as much at 
a loss to account for the eccentricity of his orchestra as the 
audience themselves. He says that the last rehearsal was per- 
fectly satisfactory.” 

“ Go, then, to the musicians. See the first violin, Baron 
von Rietmann, and tell him that the overture must com- 
mence.” 

The lord-chamberlain went off on his mission, while Leo- 
pold, in undisguised impatience, stood at the door of his box 
waiting. The empress, apparently not cognizant of any thing 
23 


846 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


around her, kept her eyes steadfastly riveted on her hook. 
Prince Eugene had risen, and stood behind the emperor. 

“ What think you of this opera eomique ? ” asked Leopold. 

“ It is past my comprehension, your majesty. I cannot 
conceive how they presume to — ” 

The emperor suddenly interrupted him. “ I begin to appre- 
hend the difficulty,” said he, laughing. “ My musicians are all 
of high rank, and, as noblemen and artistes, they have a two- 
fold pride. They know perfectly well that I cannot do with- 
out them, and they occasionally take advantage of the fact to 
annoy me. They have some cause of complaint, I confess, 
and — Ah ! What says Baron Rietmann ? ” 

“ My liege,” — replied the chamberlain, pale and breathless. 

“Do not look so terrified,” said Leopold ; “what says the 
baron ? ” 

“ Your majesty, I am ashamed to he the bearer of his mes- 
sage,” sighed the chamberlain. “He says their instruments 
will be dumb until the arrears due the orchestra for the last 
three months are paid ! ” 

At this the emperor burst into an audible fit of laughter ; 
then, remembering himself, he glanced anxiously at his impas- 
sible empress, to see if she had overheard him. No ; she was 
perfectly unconscious of any thing hut her book. 

“ Rietmann is a bold fellow,” said Leopold at length, “ but 
he is a great artiste, and I forgive his presumption. He is 
quite correct, however, as regards the orchestra. The imperial 
treasury has been drained for the army, and nothing remains 
for my musicians.” 

“ Your majesty must order the army to refill the treasury 
at the expense of the enemy,” said Eugene, with a smile. “ It 
is said that the grand-vizier has immense treasures in Bel- 
grade.” 

“ Capture them all, field-marshal, for we are sorely in need 
of them. But let us try first to compromise with these mu- 
sical rebels here. — Go, my lord-chamberlain, to Baron Riet- 
mann, and say that the arrears due the orchestra shall be paid 
to-morrow, and thereunto I pledge my imperial word. — Now, 
Prince Eugene, let us resume our seats. I presume that my 
golden promises will restore the dumb to speech.” 


THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 347 


And so they did. Scarcely had the lord-chamberlain 
whispered the emperor’s dulcet words into the baron’s ear, be- 
fore a signal passed between the musicians, and the overture 
began.* 

The scenic effect of the opera was beautiful. The fount- 
ains were of real water, and graceful naiads disported within 
their marble basins ; and there was lightning and thunder ; 
there were transformations of men into animals, and finally, 
there was a golden apple which fructified into a bewitching 
fairy. She sang so delightfully that the emperor, in his en- 
thusiasm, let fall his score, and applauded with all his might. 

The fairy was encored, and as she was about to repeat her 
aria, the emperor turned to the empress and requested leave 
to be allowed the use of her text-book for a few minutes. In 
his eagerness he did not remark her exceeding confusion ; 
but as, taking the book from her hands, he gave a glance at 
its pages, he uttered an exclamation of surprise. 

And no wonder ! For, instead of an opera-score, he found 
a prayer-book ! V 

“ I hope your majesty will excuse me,” stammered the em- 
press. “ In absence of mind, I brought my prayer-book in- 
stead of the score.” 

“ And your majesty was praying for us,” replied Leopold, 
half-vexed, half-amused. “ But in our sinful way, we, too, are 
praying ; for surely music such as this is both prayer and 
praise ; and He who taught the nightingale her song, must 
surely rejoice to hear from human tongues the strains which 
He has revealed to inspired human genius ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 

THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 

The imperial army, in five divisions, had marched to the 
Turkish frontier. They had traversed Transylvania, taking, 
on their way, the fortresses of Grosswardein, Sziget, and Ca- 

* This scene is historical.— See “ Life and Deeds of Leopold the Great. 1 ’ 


348 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


nischa ; and, farther on their victorious march, Petervrardein 
and Illock. 

The Turks had pursued their usual mode of vengeful re- 
treat, tracing their march with fire and blood, and, whereso- 
ever they were forced to surrender, leaving to the victors 
naught hut the smouldering ruins of the strongholds from 
which they had been driven. 

The imperialists were eager to invest Belgrade ; but their 
general-in-chief was ill ; and for several days they had watched 
in vain to see the hangings of his tent drawn aside, and hear 
the welcome order to march. 

Finally a courier arrived from Vienna, and it was rumored 
that instructions had been received to advance. The troops 
were all the more hopeful that, immediately after the dismissal 
of the courier, the Duke of Lorraine had sent a messenger 
to Field-Marshal the Prince of Savoy, requesting his presence 
at headquarters. 

The prince obeyed the summons without delay, and, enter- 
ing the tent, found the adjutant and the duke’s physician, sit- 
ting together, discoursing mournfully to each other of the ill- 
ness of the beloved commander. 

“ I fear,” said the surgeon, “ that his highness is attacked 
with nervous fever ; his symptoms indicate it. He passed a 
restless night, and is suffering from intense headache. He 
must not be excited ; he can therefore see nobody.” 

“ But he has sent for me,” objected Eugene. 

The surgeon shook his head. “ Your highness has heard 
my opinion, and, if you approach him, it must be on your own 
responsibility.” 

“I am a soldier,” replied Eugene, smiling, “and must obey 
orders. I have been sent for by the general, and must at 
, least be announced.” 

At this moment the hangings of the inner tent were drawn 
aside, and Martin, the duke’s old valet, came forward. 

“ Am I wanted ? ” asked the surgeon. 

“No, sir,” replied Martin. “His excellency bade me 
see if the — Ah ! There he is ! Your highness, the duke 
begs your presence at once, and requests these gentlemen 
to leave the tent until his conference with your highness is 


THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 349 

at an end. He is very nervous, and the least rustling affects 
his head.” 

“ Just as I feared,” sighed the surgeon. “ Martin, in one 
hour I shall return, to change the cold compress.” 

Eugene entered the sleeping apartment of the duke, and 
his pleasure at being admitted to see his commander, was 
changed into anxiety, when he beheld the pale, careworn face 
of the duke, and saw his head enveloped in bandages. 

“ Martin, have they left the tent ? ” inquired he, languidly. 

“ Yes, your highness ; and I shall remain and keep watch 
that no one may enter.” 

“ Do it, good Martin, for indeed I do not wish to be dis- 
turbed. ” 

Martin disappeared, and the duke, removing his bandages, 
rose from the couch, and sank into an arm chair. 

“We are alone, and I may as well dispense with all this ; 
it is needless.” 

“ Then, your highness, God be thanked, is not sick ? ” ex- 
claimed Eugene. 

“ Yes, I am sick,” replied the duke, sadly, “ but not in the 
sense in which my physician supposes. A malady of the mind 
is not to he cured by compresses.” 

“ Have you bad news ? ” asked Eugene, with tender sym- 
pathy. 

“Ah, yes,” sighed the duke. “Bad news for him who, lov- 
ing his fatherland mora than self, is withheld from willing 
sacrifice by the unworthy strivings of ambition with duty. 
But of that anon. I have sent for you to confer of the affairs 
of the Austrian army ; for I know that I can count upon your 
sincerity, and trust to your discretion.” 

“Your highness knows how unspeakable is the love I bear 
you ; you well know that it is the aim of my life to imitate, 
though I may never hope to rival, your greatness.” 

“I thank you for your honest affection, dear Eugene,” re- 
plied the duke, looking fondly into the speaking face of his 
youthful worshipper. “ I thank God that you are here, to 
complete what 1 am forced to leave unfinished.” 

“ Your highness would forsake Austria ! ” cried Eugene, 
alarmed. 


350 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Ask rather, my son, whether Austria has not forsaken 
me,” was the mournful reply. “ It is of this that I would 
speak with you. You are the only officer in the army that 
does not hear me ill-will ; and to your sound and impartial 
judgment I am about to submit the question of my resigna- 
tion.” 

“ Resignation ! ” 

“ Yes ; but first let us talk of the campaign which is before 
us. You know that its main object is the capture of Belgrade.” 

Eugene bowed assent. 

The duke laid his finger on a topographical chart that lay 
on a table close by. “ Here is the key which opens the door 
to Turkey. Unless we obtain this key, our past victories are all 
without significance, and for years we have been pouring out 
Christian blood in vain.” 

‘‘But we shall take Belgrade,” cried Eugene. “We have 
sixty-six thousand well-armed men, all eager for the fray.” 

“ And the Turks have one hundred and fifty thousand.” 

“ But they are not a consolidated army, and we must pre- 
vent them from uniting their forces.” 

“ True ; and for this end I have sent Prince Louis of Baden 
to Bosnia with six thousand men, that he may keep them busy 
at Gradiska. But the long march has exhausted his troops, 
and he has written to ask for re-enforcements. I must grant 
them ; and to-morrow I send him four thousand men. How 
many does that leave us ? ” 

“ About fifty thousand, general.” 

“ Suppose the enemy oppose fifty thousand to our ten, in 
Bosnia, there still remain to him twice as many as we can op- 
pose to him.” 

“ Yes ; but they are not commanded by a Duke of Lorraine,” 
exclaimed Eugene, with enthusiasm. “ A great general out- 
weighs the disparity of numbers.” 

A sad smile played about the duke’s features. “ I am not 
indispensable to Austria’s success,” said he. “ My men will 
fight as bravely under another commander as they have done 
under me ; hut I do not say that I relinquish them to that 
other without a pang.” 

“ Has such a question been raised ? ” asked Eugene, sadly. 


THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 351 


“ You are too close an observer not to have suspected it. 
Do you remember my telling you that I would be obliged to 
succumb to the hatred of my enemies ? ” 

“ Yes, your highness.” 

“ I did not overrate their influence. Even those who hate 
each other forget their hatred, to persecute me. And yet I 
have never done them the least wrong. There is Prince Louis 
of Baden — I have shown him every mark of distinction in my 
power, and yet he hates me.” 

“ Too true,” sighed Eugene. “ And I confess that since I 
have known it. I love him less.” 

“You are wrong. He is merely an echo of his uncle, who 
has some right to hate me, for to me he owes the loss of his 
place as president of the war department. He was not fit for 
the office, and I convinced the emperor of his incapacity. 
This, I allow, to be a ground of dislike. But there is another 
distinguished officer, too, that hates me. What have I done to 
Max Emmanuel ? ” 

“You have not only given him every opportunity to gain 
renown, but often have I admired your magnanimity when he 
has conspicuously paraded his ill-will.” 

“ I thank you for that avowal, Eugene ; for well I know 
how unwillingly you blame the elector. And he deserves your 
friendship, for he loves you sincerely. He has a noble heart, 
although I have not been able to win it ; he is a fearless hero, 
and a great military chieftain. It is a pity that we were con- 
temporaries. Were I to die to-day, no man would be louder 
in my praise than he ; but I live, and he cannot brook a rival.” 

“ Nay, your highness, he is not so presuming as to suppose 
that he is worthy to supplant you.” 

“ He is about to supplant me, Eugene. I forgive him ; for 
he is young, ambitious, and conscious of his own genius, 
which, while I enjoy the chief command, is hampered by a 
subordinate position. He is just as capable as myself ; but I 
do not feel that he is my superior, and therefore it pains me to 
be obliged to resign my command to him.” 

“ You do not think of such a thing ! What would be the 
effect of your retirement upon the troops ? ” 

“ They would cry out, as the Frenchmen do, ‘ Le roi est mort, 


352 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


vive le roi ! ’ I am not self-deceived as to the ephemeral nature 
of military popularity. It is always directed toward an ob- 
ject present and tangible, and speedily consoles itself for the 
loss of one idol by replacing it with another. But now, listen 
to me. A courier has just arrived from Vienna. The presi- 
dent of the war department declares himself unable to put any 
more troops in the field ; he has neither money nor munition 
more. The emperor writes under his own hand that he has 
several times called upon the Elector of Bavaria to join his 
command, and place himself at the head of his Bavarians.” 

“ And he has refused ! ” cried Eugene. 

“ No. He has accepted, but conditionally only. Can you 
guess his conditions ? ” 

Eugene turned pale and stammered : “ Your highness, I 
cannot — I hope that I do not — ” 

“Well, I see that you have guessed. He demands the 
chief command of the entire army.” 

“ But if the emperor, as a matter of course, refuses this un- 
reasonable and presumptuous demand ? ” 

“ Then he withdraws his troops. Peace — peace ! I know 
that you love the elector : let us not discuss his acts, but con- 
sider their bearings upon the welfare of Austria. For months 
the emperor has been trying to arrange matters, but all in 
vain. Count Strattmann, the last envoy, who had a long per- 
sonal interview with Max, says that he will not retreat from 
his exactions. He assumes the chief command, or his troops 
are this day ordered to Bavaria.” 

“ The emperor will never yield. He ought not to yield.” 

“ The decision of this difficulty has been left with me. Max 
is close at hand, in Essek, awaiting my determination. And 
now, Eugene, what answer shall I send him ? ” 

“ There is but one. The Austrian army cannot spare the 
Duke of Lorraine.” 

“ But still less can it spare the Bavarian troops. How many 
men did you say that we counted in all ? ” 

“ Fifty thousand, your highness.” 

“ And of these, how many are from Bavaria ? ” 

“ Eight thousand infantry,” said Eugene, with a sigh. 

“ And four thousand cavalry. In all, twelve thousand ; and 


THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 353 


let us do him justice : the troops of the elector are an admira- 
bly disciplined and efficient body of men. Now, if we lose 
this number, our forces are reduced to thirty-eight thousand. 
Can we confront a hundred thousand Turks with such a hand- 
ful?” 

Eugene spoke not a word. His face was bent over the 
chart, but it was easy to see that he was powerfully agitated. 
After a long silence, the duke pointed with his finger to the 
spot on the map which the prince had apparently been ex- 
amining. 

“ This tear is my answer,” said he. “We cannot spare the 
Bavarians.” 

“ Too true,” murmured Eugene, “too true.” 

“ Then the general must sacrifice his ambition to the na- 
tional welfare ; he must retire from his command.” 

“ Oh, no ! Not yet. Let me go to the elector. We are in- 
timate friends, and I will persuade him to retract his unright- 
eous exactions.” 

“ You will not succeed. Moreover, I would not accept the 
sacrifice. Could we have done without his troops, I would 
joyfully have retained my command ; but we have no right to 
ask of Max Emmanuel, who cannot be spared, to yield to me 
who can be spared. I repeat it, then : I accept no sacrifice 
from the elector, nor will I be outdone by any man in magna- 
nimity. The wound smarts, I am not ashamed to confess it ; 
but my duty is too clear before me for hesitation ; and in its 
fulfilment I have great consolation. To you, dear Eugene, this 
hour will afford a valuable lesson.” 

“ Ay, indeed,” replied Eugene. “ It will teach me high re- 
solve and holy resignation. If I ever should be tempted to 
envy the greatness of a rival, I will remember the day on 
which my friend’s mad ambition deprived an army of its great 
and renowned commander.” 

“ You are not apt to have rivals, Eugene, for you will sur- 
pass all your contemporaries in military genius. As for me, I 
retire, but I shall probably find other opportunities of using 
my sword for Austria. If— as God grant !— we should be vic- 
torious again this year, the King of France will show his teeth, 
and perhaps the laurels I have lost on the Save I may recover 


354 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


on the Khine. And now, son of my heart, farewell ! God be 
with you, now and evermore ! ” 

He embraced Eugene with affection, and, returning to the 
table, rang for Martin. The old man answered the summons, 
whereupon the duke began at once to give orders for his de- 
parture. 

“Say to the surgeon that my head is worse, and that I 
crave his attendance. Then see the imperial couriers, and 
send them hither.” 

“ The surgeon is here,” said that individual, coming for- 
ward. “ But what do I see ? Your highness has risen ? ” 

“ Yes, doctor, for I am too ill to remain in camp any longer, 
and we must start to-day for Innspruck, where you will find 
me an altered man, and the most submissive of patients.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! ” replied the surgeon, “ for your highness 
needs rest.” 

“ I will take as much as is needful,” said the duke. “ And 
now,” added he to Eugene, “ will you do me a last favor ? ” 

“ What can I do for your highness ?” 

“Seat yourself at my escritoire, and write what I shall dic- 
tate. ” 

Eugene took up his pen and wrote : 

“ Instructions for my officers : 

“ My health being too weak to allow of my remaining any 
longer in active service, I am compelled to resign the com- 
mand of the imperial armies to another. My successor, his 
highness the Elector of Bavaria, is at Essek, and will be with 
the army in a few hours. Until his arrival, I appoint Field- 
Marshal Count Caprara my representative. God protect the 
emperor and his brave army ! ” 

“ Thank you, prince,” added the duke. “ Now be so good as 
to reach me your pen, that I may sign my name.” 

When his signature had been appended to this short proc- 
lamation, the duke, sighing heavily, said, “ Eugene, do you 
know what I have just signed ? My death-warrant ! ” 

“ Oh, my general ! ” 

“ Hush ! Here come the couriers.” 


THE RETIREMENT OF THE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 355 

The duke bade them welcome, adding, “ Did his imperial 
majesty charge you with any letter subject to my order ?” 

“Yes, your highness. We have one to the Elector of Ba- 
varia, which, according as your highness commanded, was to 
be delivered to the elector, or returned to his majesty.” 

“ Hasten to Essek, and deliver it to the elector. — And you, 
baron,” said he, addressing the other courier, “ return to Vi- 
enna, and say to the emperor that, as you were leaving the 
camp, I was departing for Innspruck ; and, that you may be 
able to speak the truth literally, you shall see me go. If I 
mistake not, Martin is coming to say that my travelling-car- 
riage awaits me.” 

“Yes, your highness, we wait for nothing but your com- 
mands.” 

“ Then let us depart. Doctor, you will bear me company 
as far as Innspruck, will you not ? Give me your arm, Prince 
Eugene.” 

With these words, he put his arm around the prince’s neck, 
and, supporting himself on that slender frame, the duke, who 
was a man of tall stature, left his tent, and walked slowly to 
the carriage. 

Behind him, in solemn silence, came the physician and the 
two couriers. At the door of the chariot he let his arm glide 
away from Eugene’s neck, gave him one last fond look, one 
last friendly pressure, and then was gone ! 

The prince followed him with his eyes, until the chariot 
had disappeared from view. Then, sad and solitary, he re- 
turned to his own tent. 

“ And thus I am doomed to lose all that I love ! ” was his 
bitter reflection. “ The Duke of Lorraine— Laura !— Oh, my 
Laura, how light to me were other losses, wert thou but here 
to smile me to forgetfulness ! ” 

And, with his head bowed down between his hands, Eugene 
forgot all time, to dream of his love. For several hours he 
sat thus — his spirit all unconscious of the day, the hour, the 
place — when suddenly he was aroused from his reverie by a 
familiar voice. 

“ Eugene,” cried Max Emmanuel, “ where are you ? The 
whole army is shouting me a welcome, and my friend has no 


356 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


greeting for me ! He waits until I force myself into his tent 
to claim his congratulations ! ” 

“ I was not awrae that your highness had arrived. I — I — ” 

“ And is this my welcome ! ” cried the elector, disappointed. 
“ Are you displeased with me for superseding your master and 
hero ? ” 

“ Yes, proud, ambitious Max, I am grieved ; for you are 
right, he was my master and my hero.” 

“ Proud, ambitious, am I ? Yes, I acknowledge it, and ac- 
knowledge it without shame. The day for hero-worship has 
passed away, and that of heroic action has dawned for both of 
us. Forgive me if I have usurped the place of your demi-god ; 
and, in his stead, accept your friend and companion-in-arms. 
Think of the pledge we made before Buda, and refuse me not 
the advantage of your support. Without you, I cannot cap- 
ture Belgrade ; with you, I feel that I am invincible. Will 
you not sustain me ? ” 

“ I will, dear Max, and, sorely though you have grieved 
me, I bid you welcome.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE FALL OF BELGRADE. 

Two months had passed away since Max Emmanuel as- 
sumed command of the imperial army. During this time the 
besiegers had dug trenches and thrown up embankments ; had 
demolished fortifications, and thrown bridges across the Save, 
with a view to attacking the Turks both in front and rear. 
The latter had been obliged to look on while all this had been 
progressing, impotent, in spite of their valor, to stop proceed- 
ings. Of course they had thrown bombs and sprung mines 
under the feet of their enemies, but nothing dismayed the Aus- 
trians, and finally they were prepared to assault the city. 

The duke had twice called upon Achmed Pacha to sur- 
render. The first summons, sent by a Turkish prisoner, was 
laconically answered by the gibbeting of the unfortunate mes- 


THE FALL OF BELGRADE. 


357 


senger within sight of the Austrian camp. To the second, 
Achmed Pasha replied by a thousand greetings to the brave 
Duke of Lorraine ; adding that the siege would terminate as 
it pleased God. 

“ And we are here to carry out His will,” observed the 
duke, laughing. “ The miners must cease their work neither 
day nor night ; they may he relieved, but must not stop. Tell 
them that if they work me a passage to the fortress by the 16th 
of September, I will give to each one of them from this day 
forward a gratuity of two ducats a day.” 

On the 15th of September the Turkish commander was a 
third time summoned to surrender. This last summons was 
treated with contemptuous silence. It had been delivered to 
Achmed Pacha, while, accompanied by his Janizaries, he was 
on his way to the mosque. When he had finished its perusal, 
he addressed two of his officers that were walking on either 
side of him. 

“ What answer would you advise me to make to the Chris- 
tian commander-in-chief ? ” asked he of the first. “ In the name 
of Allah and the Prophet, I call upon you to speak according 
to your convictions.” 

“ The two Janizaries exchanged glances of uneasiness ; but 
Achmed Pacha’s stern, handsome face was inscrutable in its 
composure. 

“We are sorely pressed,” replied the officer, mustering 
courage to speak. “ Unless Allah work a miracle in our favor, 
we must succumb ; it seems to me, therefore, that a useless de- 
fence will but exasperate the enemy.” 

Achmed Pacha turned to the other. “ And you ? ” said he, 
mildly. 

“ Most illustrious leader of the armies of the faithful,” said 
the second officer, quite reassured as to consequences, “ if you 
insist upon hearing the candid opinion of the least of your 
servants, I must venture to say that our garrison is exhausted 
and spiritless. Allah has forsaken us, and it were better to 
stop further effusion of blood by an honorable surrender.” 

Achmed’s eyes now darted fire, and the angry blood 
rushed to his pale brow. He signed to a third officer to ad- , 
vance. 


358 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“You have heard these traitors,” said he in a loud, distinct 
voice. “ Off with their cowardly heads, and bear them through 
the city on pikes, while a herald shall come after you, crying 
out to all who choose to profit by the warning, ‘ Such is the 
fate of the traitors that counsel submission to the Christian ! ” 

The officers were thrown to the ground, and, in a few mo- 
ments, their headless trunks lay stretched on the earth, while 
their heads were borne aloft through the streets of Belgrade. 

“Justice is satisfied,” said Achmed Pacha, solemnly ; “ now 
let us betake ourselves to prayer. Let us thank Allah, who has 
turned away the perils by which we were threatened, and is 
preparing for the faithful a great triumph over their unbeliev- 
ing foe. The grand-vizier is at hand with re-enforcements, 
and ere long the Christians will be put to ignominious flight.” 

This declaration of the general soon made its way to 
every house in the city, and caused universal joy. The sol- 
diers crowded around their chief and swore to defend Belgrade 
until the grand-vizier arrived. 

“ And the Sultan will reward you all,” said Achmed. “ The 
booty will be left to the soldiery, and the commander of the 
faithful will pour out the treasures of his generosity from the 
horn of his beneficence. The defenders of Belgrade will be 
the nearest to his throne and his heart, and to your chil- 
dren shall descend the honors he will confer ! Now come 
and let us praise Allah for the glory you are about to win ’ ! ” 

And with this flourish of promises, Achmed Pacha entered 
the mosque. Once there, he fell upon his knees, and prayed 
after the following fashion : 

“ Allah, forgive me the lies which I have just uttered before 
the gates of Thy holy temple. Allah, make true my words : 
send hither, I implore Thee, the help I have ventured to prom- 
ise to my unhappy garrison ; for the two unfortunates whom 
I have just executed were the speakers of truth ; if a miracle 
is not vouchsafed to us, we are lost.” 

In the Christian camp Max Emmanuel was making ready 
to storm the city ; and his troops, with beating hearts, were 
eagerly awaiting the signal to begin the assault. 

“ You are really going to commence your attack ? ” asked 
the Duke of Mantua of the elector. 


THE FALL OF BELGRADE. 


359 

“ Not only to commence, but to finish it,” was the reply. 
“ Before the sun sets, Belgrade must he ours.” 

“ V ery fine and sententious,” replied the duke, with a shrug, 
“but, unfortunately, impracticable.” 

“ Well — nobody can deny that your highness is a far-seeing 
warrior,” said Max, laughing, and remembering Mohacz.* 
You have an eagle-glance for a field of battle, and I propose 
to renew for you to-day the spectacle which last year you en- 
joyed looking on, while the rest of us were fighting.” 

“ Think you that Belgrade is a bee-hive, and that the Turks 
are to be smoked therefrom, like a swarm of bees ? ” 

“ I think that Belgrade is peopled by Turks, not bees ; and 
yet I shall smoke them out of it this very day. Will you bet 
me five thousand ducats that I do not ?” 

“ Yes, I take the bet ; and although five thousand ducats is 
a considerable sum, I sincerely hope I may lose it. I shall 
make haste to return to my villa, whence I can look on the 
assault, while I pray for the success of your arms.” 

“We shall have unspeakable comfort in the thought,” cried 
the elector, galloping off to join his staff. 

“ A pious Moses that,” said he to Prince Eugene. “ I am 
really glad that he has again taken his leave. I lose all my 
pride of manhood when I look upon such a poltroon, and think 
that we are of the same species.” 

“ He is a natural curiosity,” said Eugene, “ a mere exception 
to his race. I rather enjoy the contemplation of such a spo- 
radic case of cowardice.” 

The attack was to begin at five points simultaneously. 

* The Duke of Mantua had promised to come to the assistance of the em- 
peror. In 1637 he visited the imperial camp, where he was received with 
every mark of consideration. On the morning of the battle of Mohacz, as the 
troops were about to make the attack, he came up to General Caprara, and in 
the coolest manner asked from what point he could best observe the fight. 
The general replied, “ Your highness must join the staff of the commander-in- 
chief if you wish to look on without being mixed up in the general engage- 
ment.” — .« But the staff are in constant danger, as well as the rest,” was his 
answer, “and I might be struck by a ball or a bomb-shell.”— “ Oh l” cried 
Caprara, “ you wish to look on without endangering your life ! Then go up 
to the top of "yonder mountain.” The duke went, and remained there until 
the battle was ended. 


360 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


When the fifth courier had reported his division to be in 
readiness, the elector, giving orders to his staff which dis- 
persed them for a while, turned to Eugene and began in a 
low voice : 

“ Eugene, I feel like a lover who has just become a husband. 
My heart beats with anticipation of bliss, and is all aflame with 
desire.” 

“I should think you had clasped Bellona to your heart 
so often, that you would have learned to accept her fa- 
vors without excitement or anxiety,” returned Eugene, play- 
fully. 

Max glanced at the calm and self-possessed prince, and re- 
plied : u You shall teach me self-control, dear Eugene, for you 
have wonderful mastery over your emotions. Did I not know 
what a warm heart is throbbing under that composed demean- 
or, I should imagine Prince Eugene to be a mere compound of 
wisdom and self-possession ; and yet I know that, at this very 
moment, that heart is burning with love for one who, in the 
hour of battle, is dearer to him than ever. Eugene, this is a 
moment of solemnity enough for me to ask you whether Laura 
lives ? ” 

“ I do not know,” murmured he, nervously grasping his 
reins, and becoming very pale. “ I have no news, and yet, if 
she were dead, my heart would tell me so ; I believe, then 
that she is alive, and, should I fall to-day, there hangs a medal- 
lion around my neck (her dear portrait), which must be sent 
to her. Say that I died loving her beyond all power of speech 
to convey ; that for her love, I bless and thank her, trusting* 
that she will forgive me for having been the cause of all her ' 
misfortunes. I am grateful to you, Max, for having spoken of 
her to me. If I die, this is my last will.” 

“ Enviable saint, that has hut one legacy and one love ! I 
shall take very good care not to entertain you with the his- 
tory, in many volumes, of all my various loves. But the last of 
them you can greet for me, should I fall to-day ; and you will 
do it cordially, for she is Laura’s sister-in-law. Tell my beau- 
tiful Lucretia that I have been happy in her love ; and, al- 
though I would not have her mourn for me, I hope she will 
sometimes waft me a thought or a gentle sigh. And now — to 


THE FALL OF BELGRADE. 


361 

arms, and to victory ! You promise to fight at my side, do you 
not?” 

“ Yes, Max — nothing but death shall part us, until Belgrade 
is ours.” 

“ Give me your left hand, while, with the right, I give the 
signal for the attack.” 

So saying, the elector held aloft a silken flag, which fluttered 
for a moment, and then boldly caught the breeze. — There was 
a short silence ; then every Christian gun proclaimed defiance 
to the Turk. 

Early in the action, General Scarffenberg was mortally 
wounded ; hut he had carried his point of attack, and with his 
dying eyes he saw the Austrians mount the breach, and drive 
away the enemy at the point of the bayonet. The bastion once 
reached, the men, almost reeling with fatigue, paused for a 
moment to regain breath. The enemy taking advantage of 
the halt, returned and poured out such numbers of fresh as- 
sailants that the Christians from sheer exhaustion began to 
falter, and were about to be driven hack, when Prince Eugene, 
seeing their danger, sprang forward to General Sereni, and 
called for re-enforcements. 

Placing himself at their head, the bastion was recaptured, 
and the Austrians rushed eagerly forward to follow up their 
success. 

But just beyond the breach lay a deep, wide trench, behind 
which the enemy had fortified themselves, and were now pour- 
ing out a murderous fire. 

“The line of these breastworks must he broken,” said the 
elector. 

But the question was — how were they to he broken ? Not 
a path was to be seen conducting thither ; and the imperial- 
ists, hurried forward by the eager troops behind, who were un- 
aware of the impediment in front, seemed to have no alterna- 
tive hut that of inevitable death or retreat. 

Retreat ! odious word, which the officers could not bring 
their lips to pronounce. And yet there was no possibility of 
advancing ; and to remain stationary was to offer themselves 
for massacre. The soldiers were so closely packed together 
that they could make no use of their weapons, while the Turks 
24 


362 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


were shooting them down like so many birds in a battue. The 
elector stood by the side of the breach, and called a hasty 
council of his officers. 

“We have done enough for to-day,” said General Sereni. 
“We can intrench ourselves behind the breach, and renew the 
attack to-morrow.” 

“ The men are exhausted,” urged another. “We will surely 
capture the fortress to-morrow.” 

The elector had listened in perfect silence to the various 
changes rung on the same idea ; but he was not altogether 
convinced. He now turned to Eugene, who spoke not a word, 
but gazed sharply from the trench to the serried ranks of Turks 
on the opposite side. He raised his eyes with a mournful, 
questioning look, to the face of the perplexed commander. 
Their glances met, and a smile of perfect understanding passed 
between them. 

The elector hurried forward to the brink of the trench ; 
behind him came Eugene. Both drew their swords, and, 
brandishing them above their heads, Max Emmanuel called 
out in clear, distinct, and ringing tones : 

“Comrades, look, and follow me !” 

Then the two heroes sprang into the trench, and the troops 
rushed forward to follow them. Many dislocated their limbs, 
as they leaped down ; but such as escaped without broken 
bones went onward, fighting like tigers. 

Suddenly an arrow pierced the cheek of the elector, and his 
face was covered with blood. 

“ You are wounded, dear Max ! ” cried Eugene, affrighted. 

The elector laughed, and, drawing out the arrow, replied, 
“Not at all ; this is Bellona’s first kiss.” 

And, like a furious lion, he dashed ahead, and avenged the 
kiss by many a stout blow of his sword. 

The Janizaries were driven from their breastworks, but, ere 
they went, one of them, astonished at the prowess of Eugene, 
whom he took to be a lad, was determined to make short work 
of the insolent boy that was slaying right and left like another 
David. 

He raised his brawny arm, and smiled contemptuously 
upon so puny an adversary. But when he would have dealt 


THE FALL OF BELGRADE. 


363 


his blow, it was parried by a thrust of such power that be 
reeled and almost lost his balance. In his fury he raised his 
cimeter and cleft the helmet of the prince in twain. 

For a moment Eugene was dizzy, though uninjured ; but, 
quickly recovering his senses, he made a lunge at the Janizary 
and ran him through the body. Without waiting to see him 
die, the prince drew out his sabre and darted onward. The 
imperialists shouted and cheered him as he went, but the 
Turks, too, had witnessed the deed, and more than one musket 
was vengefully aimed at the slayer of the Paynim Goliath. 
One — one, alas ! has reached the mark. It has pierced his 
foot, and he is no longer in a condition to make another step. 
Heaven be praised that the Turks have taken flight, and that 
the Christians have possessed themselves of the trench ! Eu- 
gene has the comfort of knowing that he will not be a captive, 
and this assurance gives him strength to drag himself within 
speaking distance of a group of soldiers. 

“ Bear me away, if you please,” said he ; “I cannot walk.” 

Two of them hastened to his relief, and bore him tenderly 
away to the spot where a field-surgeon was attending to the 
wounded. 

The town and citadel have fallen ; nothing now remains 
to the Turks but the castle, from the windows of which a white 
flag is proclaiming their defeat and surrender. But the Chris- 
tians do not see it ; and the elector, followed by his victorious 
troops, rushes, sword in hand, to the prison wherein the Chris- 
tian prisoners are confined. The dungeons were crowded with 
fugitive Turks, who had betaken themselves thither as the 
safest place to be found. They cried for mercy, and it was 
granted them. Their lives were spared, but they were prison- 
ers. Achmed Pacha was among them. He came forward and 
bent the knee before his conqueror. 

“Allah has willed it,” said he, “and may his name be 
praised ! General, thou hast prevailed, and I am thy prisoner. 
I ask but one favor of thee. Give me no Greek or Rascian for 
my master ; let me serve a German.” 

The elector smilingly raised him, and explained that Chris- 
tians did not enslave their prisoners of war. “You have de- 
fended yourself heroically,” added he, “ and we honor a brave 


364 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


enemy. The Emperor of Germany alone is the arbiter of 
your fate.” 

“Allah will decide what that fate is to he,” was the pious 
response of the Mussulman. 

The Elector of Bavaria has won his wager ; hut what cares 
a victorious hero for ducats or dastards like the Duke of 
Mantua ? 

“ Where is Eugene ? ” was his first inquiry. And, not see- 
ing him among his followers, he darted out of the castle in 
search of his friend. 

The question passed from man to man, until one was found 
at last to answer it. The prince was in the hands of the im- 
perial surgeons, who were vainly endeavoring to extract the 
hall. 

The elector dragged one of them aside. “ Is he dangerously 
wounded ? ” asked he, anxiously. 

“ He may not die of the wound,” was the surgeon’s reply ; 
“hut it will he tedious and very painful.” 

“ He will live ! ” cried Max, wiping away a tear, and hasten- 
ing to the litter whereon Eugene was lying. 

He bent over him, and gently touched his forehead. 

Eugene raised his large, melancholy eyes, and looking 
upon the beaming face that encountered his, he pointed to the 
wound, around which the blood had already coagulated, and 
said : 

“ Happy Max, whom Bellona has kissed ! Me she has trod- 
den under foot.” 


CHAPTER V. 

THE MARCHIONESS. 

“ Strozzi, take my advice, and give up this miserable life. 
Of all earthly bores, solitude is the greatest.” 

“ No, Barbesieur, in solitude I find my only comfort,” re- 
turned Strozzi, with a weary sigh. “ Here, at least, Laura is 
indubitably mine ; here she is Marchioness de Strozzi.” 

“ She is Marchioness de Strozzi throughout the entire world, 


THE MARCHIONESS. 


365 


as I am ready to prove, who saw your hands joined together, 
and heard your reciprocrated vows in Paris.” 

“ Yes, yes ; but you know that she denies the marriage, and 
persists that she is the wife of Eugene of Savoy.” 

“ She is a sentimental fool,” cried Barbesieur, with a coarse 
laugh. “ And devil take me but I would cure her of her folly 
were she my wife ! If she will not love you, man, why do you 
not force ber to fear you ? ” 

“ Fear me ! Her soul knows not fear. Have I not tried to 
intimidate her over and over again ? and every threat I hurl, 
she thrusts back into my teeth, as though her spirit were de- 
fended from harm by some invisible, enchanted armor.” 

“ And you love her ! You, the master and jailer, creep 
about, with sallow cheek and sunken eye, while your prisoner 
is the very impersonation of hopeful happiness. At every un- 
expected step she listens with a smile ; if a cloud stray across 
the window, she mistakes it for the shadow of deliverance ! 
Verily, my excellent father, who sent me hither to find out 
whether you were slowly killing his daughter by your cruelty, 
will scarcely believe me when I tell him what a beneficial 
effect has been produced upon her by your wholesome re- 
straint. You must know that, although not remarkable for 
his social virtues, Monsieur Louvois has intervals of puling 
sensibility, at which times he reproaches himself with the part 
he took in the comedy of your marriage, and, since Prince 
Eugene has grown famous, almost repents that he did not ac- 
cept that fascinating individual for his son-in-law. He is be- 
ginning to be absolutely afraid of the little ex-abbe.” 

“And I too fear him,” said Strozzi, gnashing his teeth. 
“ He bears a charmed life, or he would not see the light of 
heaven to-day. I thought I had him beyond all power of res- 
cue, once in Venice. So sure was I that he must die, that I 
hastened to Laura and announced his demise. That night I 
took her away, hoping by change of scene to induce forgetful- 
ness, where hope, of course, was extinct. One day, in Milan, 
a group of men were talking of some recent victory of the 
imperialists, and to my amazement I heard the name of the 
Prince of Savoy among those who had most distinguished 
themselves.” 


366 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


u Was Laura with you ? ” asked Barbesieur. 

“ Alas, she was ! And her beautiful face was transfigured 
with joy. I felt as if I could have swooned with jealousy. I 
hurried her home, and in half an hour she was on the road to 
this castle. Here I knew that no news could ever reach her 
of the world or its heroes ; here I could leave her, and fear 
not to absent myself, for this is a lonely forest, no strangers 
ever wander hither, and I have good, watchful dragons to 
guard my treasure. I posted then, with all speed, to Venice, 
entered the palace at night, and made my way to the secret 
prison of which you have heard, to see for myself if it could 
possibly he true that Eugene of Savoy was living.” 

“ Did you find any one ? ” 

“ Of course, some man was bound to be there : else he could 
not have escaped. Conceive my fury when I recognized my 
own hired bravo, Antonio, who must have betrayed me, and 
remained instead of the prince. I opened a niche in the wall, 
kicked his rotten carcass into the lagoon, and, more wretched 
than ever, returned to this hell wherein I languish, while 
paradise is within sight.” 

“ How long do you intend to make a voluntary Tantalus of 
yourself.” 

“ I shall stay until she forgets Prince Eugene, and loves 
me.” 

“ I wish you joy ; meanwhile I shall await your bulletins 
at my delightful residence — your generous gift. I must re- 
main until the arrival of my father’s couriers ; and, having 
seen them off with the glad tidings of my fair sister’s flourish- 
ing condition, I will be off for Bonaletta. I wonder which of 
us two she hates the more ? Come — we may as well go at once 
to her rooms, that my visit may be over. ” 

So saying, Barbesieur put his arm within that of the mar- 
quis, but the latter, drawing back, pointed to the clock on 
the mantel. 

“ It is too early : she never permits me to come before 
eleven.” 

kt And you — her husband, suffer such impertinent dictation 
from your vassal — your wife ! ” 

“ I dare not thwart her by any intrusion of myself except 


THE MARCHIONESS. 


367 


at her will. If I were to lay my hand on her, she would kill 
herself, like another Lucretia, to save her honor. And if I 
contradict her by coming before my time, she will start and 
grow pale, perhaps faint, and be sick ; and oh, Barbesieur ! the 
idea of losing her, makes me frantic.” 

“ As you please,” returned Barbesieur, with a shrug and a 
loud laugh. “ But as I am not pining for a sight of her beauty, 
I shall go rabbit-hunting, while you stay at home and look 
wistfully at what you dare not take.” 

So saying, Barbesieur shouldered his gun, whistled to his 
dogs, and went off to the chase ; while Strozzi, his eyes on the 
dial of the clock, awaited the hour for visiting his inapproach- 
able wife. 

The marchioness was in an apartment situated in the centre 
of the wing which her affectionate husband had fitted up for 
her incarceration. No one that entered this magnificent suite 
would ever have imagined that it was a prison. The walls 
were covered with hangings of satin and gold ; the floors were 
hidden by Turkey carpets as soft as turf ; the windows were 
festooned with curtains of velvet and lace ; and their recesses 
filled with tall Venetian mirrors. Paintings of value adorned 
the walls, and frescoes ornamented the ceilings ; while every 
object of vertu that was known to the age, lay in elegant pro- 
fusion about this luxurious abode. 

And yet it was veritably a prison, wherein the Marchioness 
de Strozzi was confined “ because of her hopeless lunacy,” and 
the windows thereof were guarded by a strong trellis-work 
of iron, which might clearly be seen through their panes, 
while without, in an anteroom, two she-dragons kept watch 
over the doors which led from the prison to the world with- 
out. 

The parlor of Laura’s habitation opened into a boudoir 
which led to the bedroom. This apartment was as sumptu- 
ously fitted up as the others, but its windows were similarly 
guarded. Opposite, and beyond the parlor, was a small room 
occupied by the duennas, so that the prisoner could not 
leave her apartments without encountering one or both of 
them. 

Tonietta, the second lady’s maid, was busy with her needle 


368 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


when the marquis entered, and began his usual routine of in 
quiries. 

“ How is the marchioness to-day ? Is she quiet and well- 
disposed ? Has she breakfasted ? Does her health seem good ? ” 
and so on. 

The woman’s lip curled, but she controlled herself and 
made reply. “ Her ladyship is as usual. She has played on 
the harp, sung, and taken her chocolate. But she was unu- 
sually cheerful while we were occupied with her toilet, and I 
do not like this humor/’ 

Why, why ? ” asked Strozzi. 

“ Because it is a very sudden change — too sudden to portend 
good. She has always been reserved, and showed no disposi- 
tion to be friendly. All of a sudden, she becomes talkative 
and gay.” 

“ So much the better. That proves that she is becoming ac- 
customed to her lot.” 

“ It might prove just the contrary,” returned the duenna, 
with a crafty glance at her master. “ It might be intended to 
blind us, or it might prove that she has hopes of escaping.” 

“ Great God ! ” shrieked Strozzi, “ you terrify me. What 
hope can she possibly indulge of escape ?” 

“I do not know, but I like not her cheerfulness, neverthe- 
less. However, be under no apprehension, my lord ; we keep 
strict watch, and there is no mode of egress save through one 
of these two doors. I am not afraid during the day — but at 
night ! Who knows ? Your lordship was wrong to allow her 
to sleep in a room without us, and to permit her to fasten her 
door against us.” 

“ She would have it so,” sighed Strozzi ; “ but what does it 
signify ? Had she wings, she could not fly out of her prison.” 

And, with these words, he passed into the parlor. 

Laura sat by a window before her easel, and was so ab- 
sorbed with her work that she was, or affected to be, uncon- 
scious of her husband’s entrance. Not daring to advance, he 
stood in the doorway, devouring her with his eyes, almost mad 
with desire to clasp her to his heart. She, on her side, sat 
painting, and humming a song, her blue-satin dress defining 
the graceful contour of her bust and slender w T aist, then swell- 


THE MARCHIONESS. 


369 


ing out beneath into rich folds that shimmered like silver un- 
der the sunbeams that fell upon them from the window above. 
The long lace sleeves drooped in gossamer waves over the 
dress, leaving bare her round, fair arms, firm and white as 
those of the Venus of Milo. Her hair was gathered into a 
Grecian knot behind, and her delicate profile, illumined by the 
morning sun, was so marvellous in its beauty, that Strozzi’s 
eyes filled with tears as he gazed, and his sallow, sunken cheeks 
glowed with mingled love and hate. 

He made a few steps forward, and encountered the cold 
glance of her splendid eyes, and saw the slight bend of her 
haughty head, as she became aware of his presence. 

“ What brings you hither, sir ? ” said she. “ But I need not 
ask. You have come to satisfy yourself by ocular demonstra^ 
tion that your prisoner has not flown up the chimney. You 
need not trouble 'yourself to remain — I am here.” 

“ Prisoner, say you, cruel Laura ! ’Tis I that am a prisoner ; 
prisoned by your coldness, and yet I love you— I love you to 
madness ! ” 

“You are quite right thus to define your love; and per- 
chance it may lead you to that lunacy which is your lying 
pretext for incarcerating me alive in this lonely castle.” 

“ Oh, I fear it, I fear it ! ” cried he, despairingly, “ for day 
by day my reason fails me. Have mercy, have mercy ! ” 

“ Mercy ! You who would have taken the life of the man I 
love. You are an assassin, whose just portion would be the 
scaffold. But enough— why renew each day the mournful duo 
of your love and my contempt ? Let me be silent and wait.” 

“ Wait ! Oh, then, there is hope for me, and you bid me 
not despair ! ” 

“ You ! — I spoke of myself ; for, as there is a just God above 
us, I believe that He will open the doors of my prison, and 
send His angel to deliver me.” 

“Then you are entirely without sympathy.” 

“ Entirely— for the man that obtained possession of my per- 
son by a fraud, and who, for five long, bitter years, has laden 
me with the chains of this lie which he calls our marriage.” 

“I know that you have suffered, and I have wept for your 
sufferings, while I have been impotent to lessen them. Speak 


370 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


but the word — say that you are that which, by the laws of God 
and man, you have been for these five long years, and I open 
your doors and restore you to freedom. I ask you not to love 
me ; but I implore you to accept my love, and acknowledge 
yourself to be my wife ; for well I know that, the acknowl- 
edgment once made, you are too honorable, too virtuous, to 
sully the name you are willing to bear. Oh, Laura, my peer- 
less Laura ! I will make amends for all that I have inflicted 
upon you through the madness of my love. I have wealth 
unbounded — a noble name, high station : all shall be yours. 
See — I am at your feet. Call me your husband, and henceforth 
I live to be your willing slave ! ” 

“ Never ! ” exclaimed she, starting from her seat, and reced- 
ing in horror from his touch. “ My body you hold in bondage, 
but my spirit is free ; and it is away from this gloomy prison, 
far away, mingling with that of my spouse before Heaven, my 
Eugene, my lord and husband.” 

“ Silence ! ” shrieked Strozzi, starting to his feet. “ Silence ! 
or you will drive me mad ! And be assured that as long as 
you defy me, just so long will I hold you in bondage.” 

“ You may not live forever, marquis, for the Strozzis, like 
other men, are mortal ; and death, perchance, may liberate me, 
without your permission. But live or die, as you choose ; I 
shall find means to rejoin Eugene, and this conviction gives 
me strength to endure your persecutions.” 

“ The Marchioness Bonaletta is too proud and chaste to be 
the mistress of any man,” returned Strozzi, with some return 
of courtesy. 

“ What do you know of me ? — I counsel you not to build 
your hopes upon any estimate you may have formed of my 
notions of honor, for they will sorely deceive you, if you do.” 

Before the marquis had time to reply to these defiant words, 
the door opened, and Barbesieur, holding a letter in his hand, 
entered the room. 

Laura frowned, and asked Strozzi by what right her room 
was thus invaded by a stranger. “ I do not desire his pres- 
ence,” she said. “ Be so good as to conduct him to your own 
apartments. ” 

“ I am not so easily conducted, most amiable sister,” re- 


THE MARCHIONESS. 


371 


turned Barbesieur. “ I have come to deliver a message from 
your father, after which I shall take my leave without the least 
regret. We are about to go to war with Germany, and I am 
about to receive a general’s commission in the French army, 
so that I have no time to lose in forcing my company upon 
you.” 

“ You a general's commission ! You that were once publicly 
disgraced by — ” 

“Your marriage has long ago consoled me for that trifling 
mishap,” interrupted Barbesieur, “ and in Paris nobody has 
ever presumed to think less of me on account of it. I think 
that, in every way, the sufferer therefrom was the valiant Eu- 
gene. And, by-the-by, that leads directly to the business that 
brought me hither. That Emperor of Austria has been entirely 
too lucky in war to please the King of France ; and Max Em- 
manuel, whom we had expected to win over to our side, is the 
commander-in-chief of the imperial armies. Max — your quasi 
brothier-in-law, Strozzi ; for doubtless you are aware that Lu- 
cretia, the left-handed electress, is the first person in impor- 
tance at the Bavarian court.” 

“May she be damned for it!” muttered Strozzi, between 
his teeth. 

“ Not on her head as much as on yours rests the shame of 
Lucretia’s act,” said Laura, reproachfully. 

“ Ah ! ” cried Strozzi, a gleam of joy darting athwart his 
meagre face, “ you acknowledge, then, that a woman is dis- 
graced who loves a man whom she cannot marry ! ” 

“A truce to this nonsense, my turtle-doves,” interposed 
Barbesieur. “I bring you tidings which henceforth render 
such discussions superfluous. Listen to me, both of you. My 
father has sent me a bit of news which, coming direct from the 
Marquis de Villars— that is, from Munich— is positive and au- 
thentic. Here it is.” 

Laura turned away her head that they might not see her 
emotion, while Strozzi besought Barbesieur not to be so long- 
winded. 

“ Well, I will gratify you both. Belgrade is taken ; Prince 
Eugene, as usual, was foremost in the fight ; but unhappily for 
some people, and happily for others—” 


372 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Here Barbesieur paused to eu joy the agony of his sister’s 
suspense. Her face he could not see, hut her trembling figure 
gave evidence of the poignancy of her anguish. 

“ Well — ” said Strozzi, “ what befell him ? ” 

“ Something not at all uncommon — he was killed.” 

Laura turned quickly around and caught the diabolical 
glance of Barbesieur’s eyes. “ I— I do not believe it,” mur- 
mured she. 

“ Did you say that you had the original letter from the Mar- 
quis ? ” asked Strozzi, eagerly. 

“ Yes, here it is ; the marchioness can see for herself.” 

Laura took the paper and glanced hurriedly over its con- 
tents. She raised her eyes to heaven in thanksgiving. “ He 
is not dead,” said she, almost inaudibly. 

“ Then you have read very carelessly,” returned Barbesieur. 
“ The letter says, ‘so dangerously wounded that he was trans- 
ported in a dying condition to Vienna.’ ” 

“ Had he been dying, he would not have been transported 
to Vienna,” exclaimed Laura, with a smile of returning hope. 
‘ No, no ! Had Eugene been dead, the air I breathe, the clouds 
that I watch as they pass by yonder grated windows — my 
heart, whose beatings are responsive to his — every thing in 
nature would have revealed the terrible truth. Eugene lives — 
and lives to fulfil his great and glorious destiny. Pardon me, 
O Lord, that, for a moment, my faith was weak ! ” 

She looked so transcendently lovely as she spoke, that 
Strozzi’s heart sank within him. He turned his face away, and 
groaned. 

“ My charming sister is easily consoled, you perceive,” said 
Barbesieur to Strozzi. “ And now that, according to her own 
interpretation of the marriage ceremony, she is widowed, I 
hope to hear before long that you have effectually dried up 
her tears. Come — let us leave this hopeful widow to herself.” 

“ I come,” replied Strozzi, h for you must take some refresh- 
ment before you go. Until the hour of dinner I take my 
leave, marchioness.” 

“ Marquis,” said Laura, following him to the door. 

Strozzi dropped Barbesieur’s arm, and returned to her at 
once. 


THE MARCHIONESS. 


373 


“You have something to command ? ” said he, humbly. 

“ I do not wish to dine to-day,” said she. “ It will be use- 
less. then, for you to return.” 

“ I cannot deny myself that pleasure,” was the reply. 

Laura constrained herself to soften her tone, and to implore. 
“ Only this one day,” said she, in trembling tones. “ I need 
repose — quiet — ” 

To weep out the first pangs of ^widowhood,” interrupted 
Barbesieur, with one of his coarse laughs. “ Come, Strozzi — 
let her cry it out to-day, she will be all the more smiling for it 
to-morrow.” 

“ Then as you please,” said Strozzi, howfing respectfully. “ I 
will not return until to-morrow before noon.” 

“ Tell my turnkeys that they need not disturb me,” said 
Laura. “ Let me he veritably and entirely alone.” 

“ You cannot dispense with their help,” objected the mar- 
quis. 

“I can and will dispense with their presence,” returned 
Laura. “ And may I ask of you, as >a guaranty that I shall 
not be disturbed, to leave the keys inside ? The holts without 
are secure, and the women can watch by the doors to see that 
I do not attempt to escape.” 

“Your will shall he my law, to-day,” said Strozzi, “for I am 
but its slave. When will you reward my love — when, Laura ? ” 

“ Leave me, I implore you,” was the faltering reply of his 
stricken wife ; “ leave me for this one day ! ” 

“ I will,” cried Strozzi, casting passionate glances at her, 
“ but to-morrow ? ” 

“To-morrow,” replied Laura, solemnly, “to-morrow is in 
the hands of God ! ” 

“ There, now,” exclaimed Barbesieur, “ she is making prom- 
ises already. Come along — I am really hungry.” 

The voice of Strozzi was heard in the anteroom, and in a 
few moments Carlotta removed the key to the inside. With 
one bound Laura reached the door, and fastened it within. 
Then crossing the parlor, she locked herself within her bou- 
doir, and, falling on her knees, besought the blessing of God 
upon her flight— for she was resolved to fly that very night. 


374 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE FLIGHT. 

For one year — from the day of her meeting with Eugene — 
Laura had been revolving in her mind the possibility of escape, 
and again and again had she been compelled to acknowledge 
that escape was impossible. At night, lest sleep should over- 
power their senses, her untiring spies had barred the doors 
that led from the anteroom with their beds. Sometimes Laura 
had proposed to bribe them ; but in the event of success with 
the women, a watchman kept guard at the head of the stair- 
case ; and at the entrance of the castle was stationed a porter, 
whom no one could pass without the watchword. If all these 
obstacles had been overcome, and the prisoner had found 
egress to the park, she was met by four watchmen, whom 
neither promises nor bribery had power to conciliate. These 
were four bloodhounds who were loosed at night by the mar- 
quis’s own hands, and on whose fidelity he knew that he might 
count. 

Flight through the doors was out of the question ; flight 
from the windows, had they been free, was equally so ; for 
whoever had dared their dangerous descent, would have been 
devoured the very moment he touched the ground below. 

Plan after plan was made and rejected, and yet she must — 
she would escape. 

In her parlor was one of those large chimneys found in old 
castles, chimneys that were intended to consume an entire load 
of wood at once. On one occasion, Strozzi being present at the 
time, a chimney-sweep went up its grimy walls, to cleanse them 
from the accumulated soot of the winter. Strozzi, forgetting 
that the sweep had to return, began to make declarations to 
Laura, and finally became so lovelorn as to throw himself at 
her feet. He was on his knees, whining for forgiveness, when 
the little sweep, like a deus ex machina , alighted suddenly in 
the middle of the hearth, and surprised him in his abject and 
ridiculous posture. 

Laura laughed outright ; but the marquis, of course, did 


THE FLIGHT. 


375 


not share her mirth. He turned furiously upon the sweep, 
threatening to take his life for his impertinent intrusion. The 
poor fellow pleaded the impossibility of getting out by any 
other means, when the marquis, stamping his foot with rage, 
bade him begone up the chimney, and ordered him to find his 
way over the castle-roof to another chimney at the farthest 
extremity of the building, which led into an ancient buttery, 
and thence to the park. 

From that day, Laura had revolved in her mind the feasi- 
bility of escape through the chimney. If a boy like that had 
so often gone up and down in safety, why not she, when 
urged by the double incentive of liberating herself from 
Strozzi, and making her way to Eugene ? The more she pon- 
dered the scheme, the easier it seemed of execution, and she 
began seriously to resolve means for carrying it out. 

Accident soon befriended her. One day, in stepping back 
from a window, whence she had been watching the flight of a 
flock of birds, her foot became entangled in the carpet, and she 
fell. This carpet did not cover the entire room. Within a 
foot of the walls it was fastened by little brass rings, to nails 
of the same metal, which caught and confined it to the floor. 

Laura naturally looked to see the cause of her fall, and, 
while examining the loosened nails, she perceived that the 
carpet— a magnificent product of the looms of Turkey— was 
lined underneath with a species of black cotton cloth, very 
similar to that of which the sweep’s garments were made. 
When she saw this, her heart beat so wildly that she felt as if 
it were about to burst. Here was the material of which her 
dress should be made ! Providence had sent it to her, and the 
enthusiastic girl knelt down and thanked God for His good- 
ness. 

She now began to loosen it, and night after night, when her 
door was locked inside, she worked as prisoners alone are 
gifted to work, until she had stripped off enough cloth for her 
purpose. She gave out that, to beguile her solitude, she was 
desirous of embroidering an altar-cloth of black velvet, and 
Carlotta was dispatched to the nearest town, to procure mate- 
rials for the work. 

Carlotta was absent three days, whence Laura concluded 


376 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


that the ‘‘nearest town” was at some considerable distance 
from the castle, of whose situation the marquis had taken 
good care that she should remain ignorant. But another ac- 
cident revealed to her the name of the town. She found it 
in a small paper which enveloped some thread, and contained 
the name of the merchant from whom it had been purchased, 
with the place of his residence in a street which Laura knew 
to be the great thoroughfare of Turin. She was then not two 
days’ journey from Turin, and no longer on Venetian soil. 

Once in Turin, she was safe from pursuit, for her estates 
lay in Savoy, and the duke was obliged to give her protection. 
She was his subject, and he could not refuse it. 

And now began that change of manner and of life which 
had awakened the suspicions of the two duennas. For several 
hours of the day she worked at her altar-cloth ; but when 
night set in, and her doors were locked, the needles, thread, 
and scissors, disappeared from the frame in the parlor, and 
the black cloth was gradually converted into a jacket and 
pantaloons like that of the sweep. This accomplished, Laura 
set about devising a cord and weight, by which she might de- 
scend into the buttery. She had so closely observed the little 
lad she was resolved to emulate, that she had succeeded in 
fashioning out of the heavy bindings of some old hangings, 
that lay in a sort of rubbish closet, a stout rope, of strength 
sufficient to bear her weight. 

It was at this juncture of her preparations, that Barbesieur 
broke in upon her happy solitude, with his terrible tidings of 
Eugene’s misfortune. She was ready to risk her life to meet 
him, and perchance he was mortally wounded, and she might 
never see him more ! A woman less resolute might have 
faltered in her purpose ; but to Laura the news of her lover’s 
danger had imparted new strength, and she would liberate 
herself that very night, or perish in the attempt. 

She had no money ; the marquis had considered it prudent 
to relieve her of the custody of her wealth, and to put it out 
of her power to bribe his spies. But she had jewels, and such 
of these as could be concealed about her person she took. 

During the day she had played upon her harp, and impro- 
vised melodies so ravishing, that Strozzi had been on his knees 


THE FLIGHT. 


377 


outside, listening and weeping by turns. Finally, when slie 
had ceased singing, he knocked, and besought her to let him 
look for one moment upon her face, to let him imprint one 
kiss upon her hand. 

Laura thought it prudent to comply, so she opened the door 
and allowed him, for the first time in his life, to hold her hand 
and press it to his lips, and to thank her for the heavenly 
music. Not to overdo the matter, she allowed him to remain 
but a few moments ; and the marquis retired, perfectly con- 
vinced that all was right, and that he had a hope of winning 
that obdurate heart at last. 

Night was at hand ! The skies were overclouded, with here 
and there a star struggling through the darkness. Gradually 
the castle grew silent, the closing of doors and drawing of bolts 
ceased at last, and all was still. 

All, except those two duennas ; and Laura saw that if she 
ever was to lull them to bed, she must call them in to undress 
her. So opening the door, she beckoned to Carlotta, who, to 
her great joy, appeared in a dressing-gown. Finally, the 
comedy being over, and the duennas completely hoodwinked, 
Laura locked her doors a second time, and, retreating to her 
bedroom, raised the carpet and drew forth her black disguise. 
She tore off her white night-gown, clasped a pearl necklace 
around her neck, and several diamond bracelets on her afrns, 
and then arrayed herself in the costume of the chimney- 
sweeper. She took up her rope, and, fastening a small iron 
casket to the end, slung it over her shoulder, and began her 
dark, perilous ascent. Away ! away ! Over the castle-roof to 
liberty and love ! — > 

With her delicate little hands she seized a hook that pro- 
jected from the chimney. She reached a second and supported 
her foot on the first ; a third, a fourth ; and now the opening 
grew narrow and more narrow, and she struggled along 
through the black, suffocating hole, until her breath had 
almost failed her, and she had nigh been choked to death ! 
Poor girl ! She could not reach her eyes to clear them of the 
soot that was blinding and maddening her with pain, and she 
began to tremble lest she should lose her senses. But she 
prayed to God to deliver her, and made one supreme effort to 
25 


378 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


free herself. She felt the air from above ; the hole began to 
widen, and she could lay her head backward and breathe. 
She raised her smarting eyes and saw a light — a star ! A greet- 
ing from heaven ! 

But she felt that at such a moment she must not indulge in 
sensibility. The extremity in which she found herself re- 
quired resolution, daring, and coolness. She called up all her 
courage, and struggled on. At last — at last, her hands rested 
on the top of the chimney : she drew herself upward, and with 
one bound sprang upon the roof. 

For a moment or two she leaned her weary arms upon the 
edge of the chimney ; then, placing her ear at the opening, 
she listened to hear if there was any stir below. No — all was 
silent ; not a sound broke the profound stillness of the night. 
She must be going then — over the castle-roof to liberty and 
love ! 

She groped, with hands outstretched, for some support, but 
found nothing. Nevertheless she must tread the dark and 
mysterious way that was to lead her to freedom, and she made 
a few steps forward. Suddenly she grew faint and dizzy, and 
a shudder ran through her limbs ; she tried to rally her 
strength and put out-her foot. It encountered some obstacle 
which sent her reeling backward ; and, murmuring a prayer 
to Heaven, she swooned and fell. When she recovered her 
senses, she was lying, she knew not where, perhaps she had 
fallen from the battlements to the ground, there to be devoured 
by the savage bloodhounds, or to become again and forever 
the prisoner of the abhorred marquis. But she felt no pain 
and, stretching out her hand to make an effort to rise, she per- 
ceived that she was on a smooth, hard surface, and lay against 
the battlements, or rather against a heavy stone balustrade 
that surrounded the castle-roof. With this balustrade to grasp, 
she could arrive at the chimney she was seeking ; all she had 
to do, was to use it as a guide to the remote wing she was try- 
ing to reach. If there had been but a few friendly stars to 
smile upon her perilous pilgrimage ! But the night was fear- 
fully dark ; so dark that she had no reliance beyond her sense 
of touch. This alone admonished her of her approach to the 
angle where she was to turn into the wing. Now and then 


THE FLIGHT. 


379 


she paused and looked back to see if there was light or sign of 
life along that broad castle-front. But all was safe, and she 
went slowly on. She felt hopeful now, and strengthened, for 
the wing was quite remote from the inhabited parts of the cas- 
tle ; its windows opened low ; and a pathway, now overgrown 
with weeds, led from one of these windows to a gate which, as 
the marquis had never dreamed of danger in that quarter, was 
always left unlocked for the accommodation of the foresters 
and wood-cutters. Oh, that she were but there ! On ! on ! 
she must hasten, or she might be discovered ! She was about 
to press forward, when, to her unspeakable horror, she per- 
ceived that her hand rested no longer on the balustrade. 
She had passed the chimney and stood upon the unprotected 
battlements ! Shuddering, she drew back — her feet almost 
giving way under her trembling limbs ; but in the might and 
vigor of her strong, firm will, she drew herself up and retreated. 
The roof was not steep — it had merely descent enough to carry 
off the rain ; but the tiles were so smooth that more than once 
she slipped back, and she was becoming timorous and weak. 
While she was resting for a moment from her fatigue, how- 
ever, she saw something looming up above the roof the sight 
whereof restored her courage and her strength. It was the 
long-sought chimney. 

She darted toward it, and in a few moments had made fast 
her rope, and dropped it within. She caught it in her hands, 
and then, carefully sliding into the chimney, began her fright- 
ful descent. In vain she tried to resist ; the rope slipped 
through her fingers with such fearful rapidity that, by the time 
she had reached the hearth, her delicate hands were all stream- 
ing with blood. She scarcely felt the pain, she had but one 
absorbing thought — she was free ! 

Folding those poor, quivering hands, she whispered a 
thanksgiving to God, and rose, full of hope and joy. Not a 
sound was to be heard ; and now, blessing the obscurity that 
shielded her from view, she opened the window, and darted 
down the pathway. The gate yielded to her touch, and, like 
a frightened doe, she fled through the woods, until the castle 
was out of sight, and she could venture to breathe. 


380 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE FORESTER’S HUT. 

Morning had not yet dawned ; nevertheless there was light 
and life in a little hut that nestled in the woods near Strozzi 
Castle. The forester, in hunting costume, stood in the middle 
of the hearth ; while his young wife, by the light of a flaming 
pine torch, prepared his breakfast. 

The whole room was illumined by the torch, whose red 
rays flickered even over the face of the infant that lay sleeping 
in its cradle, and shone far down the forest glade, a kindly 
beacon to guide the footsteps of the fugitive of Strozzi Castle. 

The forester rose from his breakfast, and slung his gun 
across his shoulder. “Now I must go, Marcella,” said he, “or 
the stag will have left the brook before I get there. By sunrise 
it will be off.” 

“ Go, then, Luigi, and may the holy Bernard protect you ! 
I do hope you will bring down the stag, and please the marquis 
by your skill as a huntsman.” 

“ Please him ? He looks as if nothing on earth would ever 
please him again. He is the crossest-looking man you ever 
saw ; so unlike his wife. They say the marchioness is crazy ; 
but I do not believe it.” 

“ Why, Luigi ? Did you ever see her ? ” 

“ Once, when I went to the castle to tell the marquis that 
his hounds were ready for the hunt. He was out walking in 
the park, and I had to wait for him to come back. Presently 
he came with two lackeys before him, and two behind, and at 
his side the most beautiful woman you ever laid your eyes 
upon. I could have fallen on my knees before her, she looked 
so lovely ; while he — bless me, Marcella, with his fierce eyes 
and his thick brows frowning over his long, sallow face, he 
looked like Love’s headsman — such a face. — But I must go ; I 
will tell you the rest another time.” 

“ Oh no ; do tell it to me now, I love so to hear you talk, 
dear Luigi. But I will not keep you from your work. Let 
me go a bit with you into the forest, as far as the blasted oak. 


THE FORESTER’S HUT. 


381 


It is too late for me to sleep, and the baby will not wake for 
half an hour.” 

“ Very well,” said Luigi, kissing her ; “come, for morning 
will soon dawn.” 

So, with their arms entwined about each other, the young 
couple went out into the woods, and the sound of their loving 
voices was sweet to the ear of the wanderer that stood upon 
their threshold. Laura pushed open the door, and entered the 
little room, looking around to see if any one was nigh. 

Her dress was torn, and her hands and feet were bleeding ; 
but her countenance beamed with hope, as, approaching the 
fireplace, she rested her stiffened limbs. 

After enjoying for a few moments the reviving glow of the 
fire, she rose and looked around to assure herself that no one 
was near. “ She is to be absent for half an hour,” said Laura 
to herself. “ By that time I will have destroyed this garment, 
and God will forgive me the substitution of my bracelet for 
one of the peasant’s gowns.” 

Opening a chest that stood by the side of the bed, the mar- 
chioness took out a petticoat and kirtle of coarse, dark stuff ; 
stripped off her sweep’s dress, and, in a trice, was transformed 
into a country-maid, very beautiful, but sooty still. Then 
throwing her disguise into the fire, she rejoiced to think that 
no human being would ever find out the manner of her escape. 

Half an hour after, Marcella returned, and rekindling the 
fire, prepared to warm her baby’s milk. As she rose from her 
knees, she looked instinctively around at the child’s cradle, 
and there, to her extreme astonishment, she saw the figure of 
a woman with hands outstretched, and eyes that seemed to 
plead for mercy. Marcella darted toward the cradle, her fears 
being entirely for her child. But it lay peacefully slumbering 
with a smile on its face, and the mother began to be apprehen- 
sive for her wares. 

“ Who are you ? ” said she, sharply, to Laura. 

“ Marcella,” replied the marchioness, coming forward and 
taking her hand, “ I am an unhappy woman, that implores 
you, by all your hopes of heaven, to rescue her from persecu- 
tion.” 

But Marcella heard not a word of this petition. She had 


382 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


recognized her petticoat and kirtle, and screamed with all her 
might : 

“ Those are my clothes, you thief ! You have been rob- 
bing me ! Thief ! thief ! ” cried she. “ Oh, why is Luigi not 
here ? Give me my kirtle ! Off with my clothes, this instant, 
you rogue ! ” 

Laura was somewhat alarmed, and not a little hurt ; for the 
grasp of the peasant was rough, and her voice, as she called 
for help, was loud and piercing. 

“ Marcella,” said she, when she had opportunity to speak, 
and her tones were so pleading, that the woman listened in 
spite of herself — “ Marcella, as I stood beside your threshold 
to-night, I heard your husband telling you of the misfortunes 
of the Marchioness Strozzi. He broke off to go into the for- 
est ; you followed him, and now I can tell you what he related 
after you left the cottage. Your husband came respectfully 
up to the marquis, who repulsed him rudely, and asked what 
business he had in the court of the castle. Luigi replied that 
Battista had admitted him, whereupon the marquis discharged 
Battista on the spot, and drove him from the castle. Then he 
dragged the marchioness forward and hurried her up the steps 
of the portico.” 

“Just so,” murmured Marcella. “ But what else ? Do you 
know what else occurred ? What the signora did ? ” 

“ Of course I do. Slipping from her finger a diamond-ring, 
she presented it to Battista, saying, ‘ Forgive me ; it is I who 
am the cause of your dismissal.’ ” 

“ So she did ! ” cried Marcella. “ But how came you to 
know ? ” 

“ Alas ! I am that unhappy marchioness.” 

“ The Marchioness Strozzi ! ” 

“ Yes ; but believe me, Marcella, I am not crazy. For five 
years I have been a prisoner, and now that God has willed my 
liberation by means so marvellous as almost to partake of the 
character of a miracle, He has sent me to you that you might 
aid in the blessed work of my deliverance. See my hands 
bleeding and cut— see my feet torn by thorns, and bruised by 
stones ; — and oh, as you hope for mercy, help me on my way 
to liberty I ” 


THE FORESTER’S IIUT. 


383 


“ I do not believe you,” was tbe reply of the cautious Mar- 
cella. “ The Marchioness Strozzi would not come out of her 
grand castle by night to steal a poor peasant-woman’s clothes. 
Where are your fine garments, if you are the marchioness ? 
Let me see them.” 

“ I came disguised, and burnt up the dress in which I made 
my escape. I needed another disguise, and have taken your 
clothes ; but I will reward you richly for the forced loan. 
Take this bracelet ; your husband can sell it, and, with the 
money, buy you a pretty farm.” 

“ Ah ! ” screamed Marcella again, “ now I know you to be 
a thief, perhaps worse than a thief ! You have been stealing 
the jewels of the signora ; for aught I know, murdering her 
with those bloody hands, and now you want to bribe me to 
help you away ! No, no, you shall not escape — that I promise 
you.” 

“ Oh, Marcella, how shall I convince you that I am no im- 
postor ? I swear, by God who made, by Christ who redeemed 
me, and by His holy mother, the Blessed Virgin, that I am the 
Marchioness of Strozzi, the unhappy prisoner of yonder 
gloomy castle. It is impossible that you can be so cruel as to 
deliver me into the hands of its wicked lord ! A woman that 
loves — that loves her husband and child, must surely have a 
compassionate heart ! See — I am at your feet ! — In mercy, 
help me to escape ! ” 

Marcella slowly shook her head. “ I cannot, 1 cannot, I 
dare not.” 

“Yes, yes, you can, you dare do a good action. Think of 
the joy you experienced when the pangs of your travail were 
past, and you had given birth to a child whom you loved even 
before it had seen the light of life. Think, if your child should 
be in distress like mine, and kneel in vain at the feet of an- 
other woman who might deliver it from peril, and would not ! 
— Oh, if you were in your grave, as my dear mother is, would 
you not curse the heartless being that repulsed your orphan ! 
— Oh, mother ! my dead mother ! soften this woman’s heart, 
that she may help me ! ” 

Just then the voice of the baby, cooing in its cradle, reached 
Marcella’s ear, and strangely moved her heart. 


384 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Ah, the child — the dear child will plead for me,” cried 
Laura. And, stooping to the cradle, she raised the baby in 
her arms, and brought the little rosy, smiling thing to its 
mother’s feet. 

“ Let this baby, whom you love, he my advocate. I lay my 
hand upon its head and swear before Heaven that I am an in- 
nocent fugitive from persecution. Do unto me as you would 
have others do unto your own child.” 

And Marcella, no longer able to resist the pleadings of 
that melodious voice, hurst into tears, and, encircling both 
Laura and the baby in her arms, clasped them close to her 
heart. 

“ My child, my child ! ” cried she, tenderly. “ As I do to 
this unhappy lady, so may others do unto you.” 

“ Then you will not betray me ! ” cried Laura, joyfully. 
“ Oh, good, good Marcella, may God bless you for those pity- 
ing words ! ” 

Marcella wiped her eyes, kissed her baby, and, replacing it 
in its cradle, said, “Now, signora, that I consent to assist you, 
tell me at once what is to be done, for it must he done 
quickly.” 

“ Give me these clothes and a little money ; guide me out 
of the forest to a post-station whence I may travel to Turin ; 
and for these services take the bracelet : it is honestly mine, 
and therefore yours.” 

“ It is now four o’clock,” observed Marcella, looking toward 
the east. 

“ And precisely at eight the marquis will visit my rooms 
and discover my flight. Come — come — we have indeed no 
time to lose.” 

“We can reach the station in an hour,” replied Marcella, 
“ and the postilions will start early this morning for — to what 
point did you say you wished to travel, signora ? ” 

“To Turin.” 

“ That is a pity,” murmured Marcella. 

“ Why ? ” asked Laura, anxiously. 

“ Because, if you were going northward, we might find you 
an escort. Luigi and I met a courier who was going to the 
next station to order post-horses for a traveller who is to leave 


THE FORESTER’S HUT. 335 

for Vienna this morning 1 . The man stopped to ask us the 
way.” 

“ For Vienna ! ” cried Laura. “ Who is going* to Vienna ? ” 

“ The physician of the Duke of Savoy, whom his highness 
is sending to see a kinsman of his who is very ill in Vienna.” 

Laura uttered a cry of joy. “ 0 God ! my God, I thank 
thee ! — Come, Marcella : I know the duke’s physician, and he, 
of all other men, is the one I prefer for an escort.” 

“But your poor, bleeding feet, signora,” cried Marcella, 
piteously. 

“ Never mind them. May they bleed anew, so I but reach 
the station in time to meet the physician i God has sent him 
to my deliverance. Come — let us aw^y l ’’ 


BOOK VI. 


CHAPTER I. 

SISTER ANGELICA. 

Two months had passed away since the fall of Belgrade, 
and Prince Eugene of Savoy was still suffering from his 
wound. Nothing had been spared that could contribute to his 
recovery ; he was attended by the surgeon-in-chief of Max 
Emmanuel, visited daily by the physicians of the emperor, and 
nursed by his untiring secretary, Conrad. More than once the 
report of his death had been spread throughout Vienna, and 
then contradicted. 

But, until the arrival of the physician of Victor Amadeus, 
all medical skill had proved unavailing. Whether through 
the agency of Doctor Franzi or of the nurse whom he had 
brought with him, Prince Eugene began, at last, to improve. 

Sister Angelica, the nurse, had watched her patient with 
preterhuman vigilance. Day and night she sat by his bedside, 
dressing his wound, administering his medicine, and resting 
his fevered head on her shoulder ; laying her soft, cool hand 
upon his brow, until to wild delirium succeeded tranquil sleep, 
or a calm, placid wakefulness. At such times the nun was 
accustomed to sing ; and at the sound of her voice, Eugene 
smiled, and resigned himself to rest. 

At last, the glance of his eye grew intelligent, and he re- 
turned to a consciousness of his position. Doctor Franzi re- 
marked with regret, however, that he was apathetic, listless, 
and quite indifferent to his recovery. He made no complaint, 
seldom spoke, and seemed to be sinking gradually into a state 
of nervous prostration. 

“ Your highness,” said the surgeon, one day, “ you are now 

(38'J) 


SISTER ANGELICA. 387 

convalescent, and it is time you made some effort to receive 
your friends.” 

Eugene turned wearily away, and sighed. “ No, no,” mur- 
mured he, “ I am averse to the sight of any man, friend or foe.” 

“Nevertheless, I prescribe it,” urged the doctor. “You are 
now less sick in body than in mind, and you must have change 
of scene to cheer you.” 

“Change will not cheer me,” replied Eugene, languidly. 

“ I feel nothing but absolute weariness of life.” 

“ A morbid state of mind resulting from your long confine- 
ment to this room, and it must be overcome by yourself. A 
pretty thing it would be, to be sure, if, after saving your life, 
we should allow you to fling it away because you are as melan- 
choly as a lovesick maiden ! ” 

“ Doctor,” cried Eugene, flushing, “ choose your words more 
carefully ! ” 

“ Good, good,” returned the doctor, with an approving nod. 

“ You have some spirit left, I perceive, and if you would but 
see one or two of your most intimate friends — ” 

“ I will not see them,” interrupted Eugene, peevishly. He 
would have said something more, but his speech was checked 
by a paroxysm of coughing. In a moment, the door opened 
noiselessly, and the nun gliding in hastened to support his 
trembling frame ; and, while he suffered his head to fall upon 
her shoulder, wiped the dews from his clammy forehead. 
Then, gently placing him on his pillow, she warmed his 
drink over a lamp, and held it to his lips while he partook of it. 

“Thank you, dear sister,” said the invalid, faintly. 

The next morning a consultation was held by the physicians 
of the prince, and it was decided that he must have change of 
air without delay. Eugene, reclining in an arm-chair, looked 
wearily on, until the conference was at an end ; then, shaking 
his head and frowning, he turned away and gazed fixedly at 
his nurse, who, with arms crossed over her breast, stood close 
at hand, ready to anticipate his wants ere he could give them 
utterance. 

“ Your highness must not resist,” said the imperial court 
physician. “ Change of air and of scene is indispensable to 
your recovery.” 


388 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Let me die here,” was Eugene’s languid reply. 

“Your highness is not going to die,” observed Doctor 
Franzi ; “ but I am afraid that you are about to cause the death 
of another person.” 

“ Whom can you mean ? ” asked Eugene, interested. 

“I mean Sister Angelica, your nurse.” 

“ Surely she is not sick,” said the prince, turning anxiously 
around. “ No ! ” said he, smiling, “ no — she is here.” 

“And yet she is sick,” persisted Doctor Franzi. “Fora 
month past, she has lived without sleep, scarcely snatching a 
moment to change her clothing, and never once breathing any 
but the air of this sick-room.” The nun made a deprecating 
gesture. “ You need not deny it,” continued the doctor. 
“ Prince, when Sister Angelica was allowed by the prioress of 
her convent to accompany me to Vienna, she made a vow 
never to leave my patient until he recovered from his illness 
or died. Now you are neither dead nor about to die ; but if 
you do all you can to frustrate our endeavors to cure you, your 
nurse will succumb long before you are well enough to dis- 
pense with her valuable services.” 

“ In that case, I cease to oppose you,” said Eugene. “ Do 
with me what you will. God forbid that I should harm my 
ministering angel !” 

“In view of your highness’s submission to our orders,” ob- 
served the court physician, “his majesty the emperor has of- 
fered the use of his palace at Schonbrunn, and we have taken 
the liberty of preparing every thing for your immediate de- 
parture.” 

“ His majesty is too kind,” was the reply, “ and my first 
care shall be to thank my gracious sovereign for so signal a 
proof of his beneficence. Let us then depart for Schonbrunn. 
You are satisfied, dear sister, are you not ? ” 

The sister bowed her head, and passed her hand over Eu- 
gene’s glossy, black hair, while Doctor Franzi came in and 
out, making preparations for the accommodation of his pa- 
tient. 

A litter was brought, and when the prince had been care- 
fully placed upon it the doctor inquired whether he felt com- 
fortable enough therein to bear the journey. Eugene, on 


SISTER ANGELICA. 


389 

his part, asked how his physician and the nun were to 
travel. 

“ We expect to occupy your highness’s carriage, and to pre- 
cede you, by a half hour, to Schonbrunn.” 

“Would it be inconvenient or uncomfortable for Sister 
Angelica to occupy the litter with me ? ” 

“ By no means ; but if she accompanies your highness, 
things will not be quite so comfortable for your reception.” 

“ Then let me have less comfort, and more content. She 
supports my head so delightfully when I cough, and moves my 
wounded foot so gently — ” 

The nun no sooner heard these words than she put aside 
the doctor who was standing before her, and hastened to the 
litter, altered the inclination of Eugene’s pillow, and very gen- 
tly changed the position of his wounded foot. 

“ Oh, how I thank you, dear sister ! ” murmured the prince, 
with a sigh of relief. “ When you are by, pain seems to van- 
ish, and night breaks into joyful day.” 

The bearers raised the litter, and the little cortege set out 
for Schonbrunn. Two runners went before, to make way, 
crying as they went along : 

u Room for the litter of his highness the Prince of Savoy ! ” 

The hurrying wayfarers retreated at the sound ; a passage 
was opened through the crowded thoroughfares ; and, while 
the hero of Belgrade was borne along the streets of Vienna, 
the people stood respectfully aside to let him pass. 

The air of Schonbrunn was pure and delightful. Every 
morning the prince was conveyed to its lovely gardens, where 
he spent at least an hour in inhaling the sweet breath of com- 
ing spring. He drank goat’s milk for his cough, and partook 
submissively of the food prescribed for his nourishment ; but 
his fever was not subdued, and his cheeks grew paler and 
thinner each day. 

“We must use other means,” said Doctor Franzi to the nun, 
who had been anxiously questioning him as to the result of a 
consultation held that day over the sinking patient, “My 
colleagues are of opinion that his fever is hectic, and there- 
fore incurable ; but I differ with them. I really believe that 
if he could be roused from his apathy, we could save him yet. 


390 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Corporeal remedies have done their best ; we must try a moral 
reaction.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” murmured the nun. 

“ I mean that Sister Angelica must raise her veil, and break 
her long silence,” replied the doctor, raising her delicate white 
hand to his lips. 

The nun trembled, and caught her breath, the doctor view- 
ing her with amazement. “ What ! ” said he, “ you who have 
displayed such fortitude and endurance, are you about to be- 
come faint-hearted ? ” 

“ Doctor,” whispered she, “ joy has its agitation as well as 
grief. And if the shock should be too great for him ! ” 

“ If too great now, he will never be able to bear it, my 
dear child. It is possible that it may deprive him for a time 
of consciousness, but he will awake to life another man. At 
least, such is my impression. I consider that his fate now lies 
in your hands, and you must decide it to-day — nay, this very 
hour.” 

“ Oh, doctor, I am so unprepared ! I have no self-com- 
mand ; let us wait until to-morrow. If we should fail—” 

“We shall have done him no injury. I am ready to an- 
swer before God that — ” 

The door was partially opened, and the valet of the prince 
apologized for interrupting them. “ His highness feels very 
much exhausted, and calls for Sister Angelica.” 

“She will be there in one moment,” replied the doctor. — 
“ You see,” whispered he, “ that his heart has divined your 
presence. As soon as you leave the room, he begins to suffer.” 

So saying, he gave her his hand, and she submitted to be 
led as far as the door of the prince’s sitting-room. There she 
paused, and laying her hands upon her heart — 

“ Oh, it will burst,” murmured she. “ Doctor, you will re- 
main with me — will you not ? ” 

“ I will remain as long as my presence is beneficial, and de- 
part as soon as it becomes oppressive. Come ! ” 

He opened the door, and, with gentle constraint, com- 
pelled her to advance. The prince, extended on his couch, 
looked very ill. “ Have you given me up ? Have you, too, 
forgotten me ? ” 


SISTER ANGELICA. 


391 


“‘You too,’ ” echoed the doctor, while the nun was engaged 
in preparing the patient’s drink. “/Why, has anybody else 
ever forgotten your highness ? ” 

“ No,” sighed Eugene ; “ I was unjust. But I have lost her, 
and that loss is killing me.” 

“You hear him,” whispered the doctor, while the nun, 
scarcely able to hold the glass, presented it to the lips of her 
patient. 

“ Drink, Prince Eugene,” said she, in low, trembling tones. 
At the sound of her voice he started, and raised his head to 
listen. 

“ Great Heaven ! Who spoke ? ” 

The doctor smiled, and, slightly raising his shoulders, re- 
plied : “ Nobody but Sister Angelica, I presume, for nobody 
else is here.” 

“ Sister Angelica ! ” repeated Eugene, slowly. “ I thought 
she had made a vow of silence, to last until her return to the 
convent ? ” 

“ You are quite right ; but it appears that she has forgotten 
herself for a moment, in her anxiety to serve you. Drink, 
then, to oblige her.” 

Eugene clutched the glass and emptied it of its con- 
tents. 

“ Good,” said the doctor. “ Now that you are somewhat 
refreshed, I must entertain you with a little outside gossip. I 
have letters from Turin to-day. Victor Amadeus has disen- 
thralled himself from his filial bondage. His mother, having 
been regent during his minority, has been struggling since his 
majority to retain her supremacy over him and the duchy. 
She insisted upon taking precedence of her daughter-in-law, 
the reigning duchess, and was equally bent upon dismissing 
one of the ministers. There was considerable strife, and no 
little intrigue in Turin, until the defection of one of the dow- 
ager’s adherents, which so strengthened the opposite party, 
that she was obliged to succumb, and retired in high dudgeon 
to her estates. The duke, on his side, out of gratitude to his 
new friend, has created him prime minister — an appointment 
which is very popular in Savoy— for there is not a worthier 
man in the dukedom than the Marquis de Bonaletta.” 


392 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


At sound of this name, Eugene started up, and leaning his 
head upon his hand, prepared to listen. 

The doctor continued : “ By-the-by, he is the uncle of the 
unfortunate young marchioness of that name who was forced 
into a marriage with a depraved Venetian nobleman called 
Strozzi. Your highness has heard her history ?” 

Eugene murmured something in reply, and sank back upon 
his pillow. 

“ A very melancholy affair,” pursued the doctor, signing 
to the nun to approach, 14 and it has ended most singularly.” 

“ Ended ! How ? ” cried Eugene. “ Speak, doctor, I implore 
you : is she dead ? ” 

“ She ? The marchioness ? Quite the contrary, she is alive 
and well. Her husband suddenly disappeared with her from 
Venice, last spring ; and it was discovered that he had con- 
fined her within a solitary castle, somewhere in a forest ; 
having previously given out to the world that she was a rav- 
ing lunatic.” 

“ The accursed liar ! ” muttered Eugene. “ May God grant 
me life to avenge her wrongs ! ” 

“ Your highness is much moved at the recital,” continued 
the doctor, “and no wonder, for it is a fact much stranger 
than fiction. But I will defer the conclusion of my story 
to some other day. You are too much excited to hear it now.” 

“ Oh no, indeed ! I am strong — well. Look at me, doctor ; 
and believe me when I say that your conversation is more 
healing than all the medicines you have ever administered.” 

“ In truth, your highness seems quite invigorated within 
the last half hour. Do you not perceive the change, Sister 
Angelica ? ” 

She bowed her head, and approached the couch. 

“ Then, in mercy, let me hear the rest,” cried Eugene, his 
eyes flashing with eagerness. 

“Be it so, then. In spite of bolts, bars, and her miserable 
husband’s spies, the marchioness has managed to escape.” 

“ Escape ! ” exclaimed Eugene, starting from his couch, and 
standing upright upon the floor. In a moment the nun was 
behind him, ready to support him in case of need ; but he 
walked hurriedly to the window, threw it wide open, and in- 


SISTER ANGELICA. 


393 


haled the fresh morning air. For a while, not a word was 
spoken. The prince looked upward at the blue and silver 
clouds that were floating silently by ; his large, dark eyes 
wandered lovingly over the beautiful landscape that lay below, 
and then, bowing his head, he lifted his heart to heaven, and 
thanked God. 

“ Doctor,” said he, at last, “ whither fled the marchioness ? ” 
“ No one knows, your highness. But you must excuse me 
if I take my leave. I must attend a consultation of — ” 

“ Doctor,” cried the prince, grasping him by the arm, “ you 
cannot go : I must know all that you have to tell.” 

The doctor smiled. “ Upon my word, your highness speaks 
as if you were ordering a charge against the Turks. But I 
cannot obey : Sister Angelica has heard the story from begin- 
ning to end, and she will relate the rest of it. Adieu.” 

So saying, Doctor Franzi left the room. 

“ Oh, dear sister,” cried Eugene, “ can you tell me whether 
she fell into his hands again ? ” 

“ She did not,” replied the nun, in a low, tremulous voice ; 
“ but the shock of her disappearance was so terrible in its ef- 
fects upon the marquis, that he is now a maniac in the very 
apartments wherein he had confined his wretched wife.” 

Eugene had listened in breathless amazement to these low, 
fluttering words ; and when they ceased he seemed still to lis- 
ten. His face had become excessively pale ; his lips were 
slightly parted, and his eyes riveted upon some imaginary ob- 
ject at a distance, which seemed to obliterate from his mind 
the presence of his companion. She meanwhile became so 
terrified that she clasped her hands, and knelt at his feet. 

He saw — he understood it all, and, raising her in his arms, 
he pressed her rapturously to his heart. The veil had fallen, 
and she was there ! His Laura ! his long-lost Laura ! 


26 


394 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER II. 

LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 

The morning service was at an end, and King Louis XIV . , 
attended by bis courtiers, left the royal chapel. His counte- 
nance was troubled, and it followed, as a matter of course, that 
everybody else wore a woe-begone expression. The fact is, 
that things were very dull and solemn at the French court. 
Feasts and festivals were forbidden, and nobody was allowed 
to look cheerful. La Valliere, in a Carmelite convent, was 
doing penance for the sin of her love for Louis ; while De 
Montespan, in the world, was expiating hers within sight of 
the king’s indifference. He had tired of her long ago, but had 
permitted her to remain at court, where her saloons were as 
stupid, as silent, and as empty, as they had once been bright 
and crowded. 

The reigning favorite was De Maintenon, who might have 
had followers innumerable, had she desired them. But she ap- 
peared to be perfectly unconscious of her own power ; going 
about, now as ever, with modest mien and simple dress, with 
folded hands and downcast eyes, apparently unaware of the 
existence of any mortal whatsoever, save that of her well-be- 
loved Louis. And her course of action had been triumphantly 
successful, for by many she was believed to be tbe legitimate 
spouse of the King of France. 

From the chapel, Louis betook himself to the boudoir of the 
marquise, and greeted her with a slight inclination of his 
royal head. 

“ Why were you not at mass to-day, madame ? ” inquired 
he, curtly, as, hastily crossing the room, he flung open the 
window, and admitted the sharp air of a raw autumn morning. 

De Maintenon stifled a sigh, and compelled herself to smile. 
“You know, sire,” replied she, gently, “that I am indisposed. 
My physician has forbidden me to breathe the air, and for this 
reason I dared not follow the impulse of my heart, and join 
my prayers to those of your majesty this morning. The au- 
tumn winds are too keen for me.” 


LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 


395 


The king paid no attention to De Maintenon’s allusion to 
the “autumn winds.” The window remained open, and she 
was obliged to stand directly in front of it as long as Louis 
was pleased to enjoy the breeze. 

“ You are becoming sickly, madam e,” observed he, coldly. 

“ True, sire, I suffer of late,” sighed she. 

“ You are getting old,” replied he, tartly. “ Old age is a 
sorry companion ; it makes people peevish and disagreeable.” 

The marquise grew as pale as ashes, and the sharp glance 
of her black eyes was turned quickly upon the countenance of 
the king, who, instead of looking at her, was staring out of the 
window at the marble Naiads, over whose white limbs the 
waters of a fountain were foaming and plashing, in myriads 
of pearly drops. He appeared to be quite unconscious of hav- 
ing wounded the feelings of his sensitive companion. 

She, on her part, felt that a crisis was at hand, and that, to 
waken the king from his apathy, desperate measures must be 
adopted. She plunged into her remedy at once. 

“ I see,” sighed she, “ that my presence is irksome to your 
majesty. It is better, therefore, that I gather up my strength, 
and sacrifice my happiness to yours. I will retire to St. Cyr.” 

Louis raised his shoulders. “ I think not. People often 
say such things, but never mean what they say.” 

“ Sire, Madame de la Valliere is a proof of the contrary, and 
I — although (as you remarked just now) — I am old, possess a 
heart over whose emotions time and age have no power. I 
love as I have ever loved, passionately, profoundly ; but my 
love is disinterested, and soars high above all self-gratification. 
Now that it has become obtrusive, its current shall be turned 
to heaven, and in the sacred walls of a cloister I will spend the 
remainder of my days in prayer for him whose image I shall 
cherish unto death. Sire, I respectfully request permission 
to enter the convent of St. Cyr.” 

Louis began to be uneasy. He knew very well that De 
Maintenon had a vigorous and resolute soul, quite capable of 
carrying out any purpose dictated by her head ; and, if once 
she appealed from her affections to her pride, he felt that no 
ulterior persuasions of his would avail to deter her from the 
step she meditated. 


396 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Are you serious, madame ? ” said he, reproachfully. 
“ Would you, indeed, forsake me ? ” 

“ Sire, I am so earnest in my intention to free you from the 
presence of an infirm old woman, that I repeat my request to 
be allowed to depart now— this very hour.” 

The king hated nothing on earth like surprises ; he disliked 
to have the sluggish waters of his every-day life stirred by un- 
accustomed occurrences. He turned around at once to remon- 
strate, and, instead of the pallid face he had encountered just a 
few minutes ago, he saw a pair of glowing cheeks and flashing 
eyes, from whose lustrous depths there darted a light that 
warmed up his tepid old heart, and set it to beating as it had 
been wont to do, when La Valliere smiled and De Montespan 
coquetted. 

“ Surely,” said he, “ you would not set a bad example to the 
wives of my courtiers, Frangoise ! You would not teach them 
that when they tire of their husbands they may desert them, 
and bury their ennui in a convent ! ” 

“ Sire, I cannot accept the responsibility of other women’s 
derelictions. My duty points out to me a convent as the 
proper refuge for a woman who has outlived her husband’s 
love.” 

“ I will not release you from your marriage-tie, madame ; 
and, should you brave my displeasure, and attempt to leave 
me, I would follow you to St. Cyr, and drag you from the altar, 
were you in the very act of making your vows ! ” 

The marquise dropped on her knees. “ Oh, sire, do I hear 
aright ! I am not odious to you !— You will not drive me 
away from my earthly heaven ! I may yet be happy, yet be 
loved ! ” 

The king bent over her, and raised her tenderly in his 
arms. “Rise, madame,” said he, “it does not become the 
wife of the King of France to bend the knee to any man. 
You know full well, Frangoise,” continued he, affectionately, 
“ that without you my life would be an aimless, burdensome 
one. Who could replace you, my wife, my counsellor, my 
prime minister ? ” 

“Ah, sire, what words ! They thrill me to the depths of 
my heart, and restore me to bliss unspeakable I ” 


LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 


397 

“Then the cloud of your discontent has passed away, has 
it not?” 

“ Oh, sire, it is day, bright day, and my soul is flooded with 
sunshine ! ” 

“ Then let us sit down on yonder divan, and talk of the 
affairs of France. Do you know that I have bad news from 
Germany ? ” 

“ I feared as much, sire, when you entered the room with 
such a troubled aspect.” 

“These German princes will not come to a decision as to 
my claims. For four years my envoys have been before the 
imperial Diet, vainly urging them to define our boundaries.” 

“ They are procrastinating in the hope of receiving succor 
from the emperor, who, as soon as he has sufficiently humbled 
the Porte, will make an attempt to humble France. With 
Leopold to sustain them, the Diet will claim Strasburg and 
Alsatia, and exact of your majesty the withdrawal of the 
French troops from all the Rhenish provinces.” 

“ They shall not he withdrawn,” returned Louis. “ When 
France has her grasp upon a province, she never relaxes her 
hold. And so far am I from any intention to temporize, that, 
if the Diet decides against me, I will not scruple to break the 
twenty years 1 truce, and appeal to arms. This I have long 
ago decided to do, so we need not discuss the question any 
longer. I have other matters to confide to you, which harass 
me.” 

“Has the emperor refused to recognize the' new Elector of 
Cologne ? ” asked the marquise, indignantly. 

“ Yes, he has had the assurance to reject the lawful election 
of Egon of Furstenberg ; and to appoint, in his stead, Joseph 
Clemens, the brother of the Elector of Bavaria. Out of four- 
and-twenty prebendaries of the archbishopric of Cologne, four- 
teen votes were given to Egon, while Joseph received but ten. 
And what, do you suppose, is the ground of the emperor’s in- 
solent rejection of my nominee ? He pretends that the four- 
teen voters were bribed by France, and that the candidate him- 
self is disaffected, and under French influence. This is tanta- 
mount to a declaration of war ; and, what is worse than all, 
Pope Innocent sustains the emperor.” 


398 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The marquise folded her hands in pious resignation. “ That 
is a sad proof of the unfriendliness of his holiness toward 
France,” murmured she. “ But that is the fault of the Min- 
ister Louyois. He has deserved the displeasure of his holiness 
by the forcible occupation of Avignon (so long the residence 
of the successors of St. Peter), and by the arrest of the papal 
nuncio.” 

“ He could not help it,” cried Louis, impatiently ; “ it was an 
act of reprisal. Our ambassador at Rome had been affronted ; 
the spies of the pope had forced themselves into the hotel of 
the embassy and had arrested two men that had sought pro- 
tection from the French flag.” 

“ Sire,” said the marquise with determination, “ they were 
papal subjects and criminals, who had no right to the protec- 
tion of the French flag. It should never be said that Louis 
of France shields from justice the theives and murderers 
whom the Vicar of Christ would punish. You know, sire, 
that these men had committed sacrilege. They had plundered 
the altar of St. Peter’s of its golden pyx and candlesticks, and 
had poniarded the sacristan that had them in charge.” 

“ It was a crime — that I cannot deny,” said Louis with a 
deprecating sigh, “but the right of asylum is sacred, and we 
were forced to defend it.” 

“ Sire, do you, an earthly monarch, pretend to believe that 
you can shield a criminal from the all-seeing vengeance of 
the Lord ? Had the sinner the wings of the morning, where- 
with he might fly to the uttermost limits of the earth, the arm 
of God would overtake and arrest him in his flight ! How, 
then, do you pretend to cover his crimes with the folds of the 
French flag ? ” 

The king was cowed by the bold and uncompromising voice 
of truth. He folded his hands and bowed his head. 

“Alas, alas! you are right and we were wrong! We 
should not have given refuge to these murderers and plunder- 
ers. I am truly repentant, Frangoise, and will do my best to 
expiate the sin.” 

“ Sire, you are right to bewail the sin, but it lies not on your 
conscience ; it is the fault of your arrogant minister, who, with- 
out consulting you, demanded satisfaction of his holiness ; and, 


LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH. 


399 


when it was righteously refused, took possession of Avignon, 
and imprisoned the papal nuncio. Then, when the deed was 
done, and not until then, he dispatched a courier to Paris, to 
inform you of what had taken place.” 

“ That is true, dear Frangoise,” said Louis, mildly ; “ but, 
after all, Louvois had no alternative. Had he consulted me, I 
might have felt myself bound to temporize ; whereas, by his 
assumption of the act, he renders apology on my part possible. 
The thing is done ; the honor of France is satisfied, and I can 
now release the nuncio, and make all necessary excuses to his 
holiness.” 

The marquise gazed searchingly at the countenance of the 
royal casuist, who bore her scrutiny without flinching, and, 
with a slight clearing of his throat, went on : 

“ I am not yet at the end of my chapter of vexations. A 
courier has arrived to day from the Marquis de Villars. In 
spite of all his petty intrigues, and the millions with which he 
bribed the mistress of the elector, Max Emmanuel has never 
been estranged from Austria. So far from it, he has assumed 
the chief command of the imperial armies, and is about to lay 
siege to Belgrade.” 

“ He will come to grief, sire,” cried the marquise. “ The 
Turks and Hungarians greatly outnumber the imperialists, 
and — ” 

The king raised his hand and shook his head. “ I would 
you were right ; but, Frangoise, you are a false prophet — my 
last and worst tale is told— Belgrade has fallen ! ” 

“ The will of God be done ! ” cried the marquise. “ Chris- 
tianity has triumphed, and the unbelieving Moslem has bitten 
the dust ! ” 

“ Pray,” interrupted Louis, fretfully, “ put aside your piety 
for a while and look at the thing through the medium of good 
sense and earthly foresight. The Emperor of Germany is vic- 
torious ; he is gradually weakening the Sultan, so that it is 
within the range of possibilities that he overturn the Ottoman 
power, and consolidate the Germanic confederations into one 
great empire. This done, he will turn his attention to France 
r— of that you may be sure.” 

“My beloved sovereign speaks of events that will never 


400 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


come to pass,” replied the marquise, with one of her most 
enticing smiles. “ Long before the Emperor Leopold will 
have exterminated the Turks, we will force him to defend his 
own territories from the invading armies of France.” 

“ You approve me, then, and think that it is time I began 
to be aggressive in my warfare,” exclaimed Louis, eagerly. 

“ I am always of the opinion of my lord and sovereign,” 
was the courteous reply of the marquise, who had already for- 
gotten the discussion relating to Avignon. “It remains to be 
seen if Louvois acquiesces.” 

“ Louvois will do as he is bid,” said Louis, frowning. 

“ Remember, sire, that he said publicly, yesterday, that the 
French army was not in a condition to open a campaign, and 
that it could not be equipped before spring.” 

“ Before spring ! ” echoed the king. “While the generals 
of Leopold carry every thing before them ! — for he has distin- 
guished generals in his service, madame ; one of whom is that 
same Eugene of Savoy whom you pronounced unworthy of a 
bishopric. Whatever he might have done as a churchman, I 
would he were an archbishop rather than what he is to-day ! ” 

“ Oh, sire ! ” said the marquise, reproachfully. “ True — I 
never thought Prince Eugene had any vocation for the priest- 
hood ; and, knowing his disinclination to the church, I myself 
advised him to ask for a commission in the army. He did ask 
it — a mere captaincy — and your majesty well remembers who 
it was that influenced you to refuse him so small a boon. To 
Louvois France owes the loss of this great military genius.” 

“ Right, right, you are always right, and I have unwittingly 
given you another pretext for blaming him.” 

“ Although he is ray bitter foe, I would not blame him, sire, 
were he not culpable.” 

“ Your bitter 'foe, Frangoise ? How ? ” 

“ Ah, sire, was it not he that opposed our marriage ? ” 

“Forgive him, dear Frangoise, he acted according to his 
own notions of duty. But you see that my love was mightier 
than his objections, and you are, before God, my own beloved 
spouse.” 

“ Before God, sire, I am ; but the world doubts my right to 
the name. In the eyes of the court, I am but the mistress of 


THE KING AND THE PETITIONERS. 


401 


the king ; a humiliation which I owe to Louvois, who bound 
your majesty by an oath never to recognize me as Queen of 
France.” 

“ I rejoice to think that he did so,” was the king’s reply, 
“ for the tie that binds us is sacred in the sight of Heaven, 
while in the eyes of the world I am spared the ridicule of plac- 
ing Scarron’s widow upon the throne of Charlemagne the 
Great. In your own reception-room you act as queen, and I 
am perfectly willing that you should do so, for it proves that 
you are the wife of the king, and not his mistress. Be mag- 
nanimous, then, and forgive Louvois if, above the ambition of 
Madame de Maintenon, he valued the dignity and honor of the 
French throne. But the hour of my interview with you is .at 
an end : I hold a levee this morning, and must leave you.” 

Kissing the hand of the marquise, Louis bowed and left 
the room. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE KING AND THE PETITIONERS. 

When the king entered the audience-chamber, the court- 
iers, dispersed in groups about the room, were all in eager con- 
versation. So absorbed were they in the subject under dis- 
cussion, that those who stood at the opposite end of the room 
were not aware of the royal presence until the grande tournee 
forced it upon their attention. 

The king joined one of these groups. “ Gentlemen,” said 
he, “ what interests you so deeply to-day ? Have you received 
any important news ? ” 

“ Yes, sire,” replied the Prince de Conti. “We are speaking 
of my cousin Eugene. He has been severely wounded, but 
not until he had materially assisted the Elector of Bavaria to 
capture Belgrade. ” 

“ Ah ! you have heard of the fall of Belgrade ! ” said the 
king, frowning, as he perceived that Louvois was approaching. 
“ Is it you,” asked he, curtly, “ that has been in such hot haste 
to spread the news of the successes of the imperial army ? ” 


402 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Pardon me, sire,” replied Louvois, “ I am no gossip ; nor 
do the successes of the Emperor of Austria interest me suffi- 
ciently for me to deem them worthy of announcement here.” 

“ Nevertheless, they are for you a cause of no little humilia- 
tion ; for they remind the world that you were once guilty of 
a blunder in your statesmanship. If I am not mistaken, it was 
you who caused me to refuse Prince Eugene a commission in 
my army — that same Prince Eugene who has turned out to be 
one of the greatest military geniuses of the age.” 

“ Sire,” returned Louvois, reddening with anger, “ you your- 
self were of the opinion that Prince Eugene of Savoy — ” 

“ Sir,” interrupted the king, haughtily, “I am of opinion 
that when you scorned Prince Eugene, you were lamentably 
deficient in judgment ; and that, if he is now shedding lustre 
upon the arms of Austria, it is because you repulsed him when 
he would have entered the service of France. ” 

And the king, whose wounded vanity was greatly com- 
forted by a thrust at that of his prime minister, turned on his 
heel, and addressed himself again to the Prince de Conti : 

“ Whence came your news of the taking of Belgrade ? ” 

“ From the Duke de Luynes, your majesty, who, you may 
remember, has joined the imperial armies. But Eugene is not 
the only Frenchman who has distinguished himself at the 
siege ; the Prince de Commercy behaved in a manner worthy 
of all admiration.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” added the young Duke of Maine (the royal 
son of De Montespan). “ It is such deeds as his that have earned 
for Frenchmen the title of the ‘ Knightly Nation.’ ” 

And the little hobbling duke, who had never drawn a 
sword from its scabbard, struck himself on the breast, as if he 
had represented in his own person the united chivalry of all 
France. 

“ I am curious to hear of the valiant deeds of the Prince de 
Commercy,” said the king, carelessly. “ Pray relate them to 
us, prince.” 

The prince bowed : “ Sire, as the Prince de Commercy was 
charging a body of Janizaries stationed at one of the gates of 
Belgrade, a Turk made a sudden dash at his standard-bearer, 
and captured the regimental flag. The men were disheartened 


THE KING AND THE PETITIONERS. 


403 


at their loss, when the prince, crying out, ‘Wait a moment, 
boys, and you shall have another , 1 galloped right into the 
enemy's midst, and raised his pistol to bring down the stand- 
ard-bearer of the Turks. The latter, taking immediate advan- 
tage of the position of the prince, thrust a lance into his right 
side. Without giving the least attention to his wound, Com- 
mercy grasped the spear with his left hand and held it fash 
while with his right he drew out his sabre, killed the standard- 
bearer and bore away his flag. Then, withdrawing the lance 
from his side, he gave the blood-besprinkled banner into the 
hands of the German ensign, saying, as he did so, ‘ Pray be 
more careful of this one than you were of the other . 1 11 

The king slightly bowed his head. “ Indeed, the Prince de 
Commercy does honor to the country that gave him birth. I 
will take care that he is suitably rewarded.” 

“ Sire,” replied the Prince de Conti, “ the Emperor of Ger- 
many has already done so. He has been promoted ; and the 
flag which was stained with his blood now hangs within the 
cathedral walls of St. Stephen’s ; while, with her own hands, 
the empress is embroidering a new one for the regiment, 
which, in honor, of the prince, is called the Commercy regi- 
ment.” 

The Emperor of Germany knows how to reward valor,” 
exclaimed the Duke de la Roche Guyon, “ for Eugene of Savoy 
is only five-and-twenty years of age, and yet he has been 
created a field-marshal.” 

The king affected not to have heard this remark, and passed 
on. His courtiers saw, with consternation, that he was an- 
noyed at something, and every face in the audience-chamber 
gave back a reflection of the royal discontent. Louis saun- 
tered along, occasionally addressing a word or two to such as 
he “ delighted to honor,” until the grande tournee had been 
made. 

When the two Princes de Conti saw that he was disengaged, 
they advanced with a mien so respectful, that Louis knew per- 
fectly well the nature of their errand, although he little 
guessed its purport. 

“ Well, gentlemen,” said he, “ for what new escapade have 
you come to crave our royal indulgence ? I see, by your 


404 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


demeanor, that you are about to ask a favor of your sover- 
eign.” 

“ Yes, my liege,” replied the elder of the two ; “ we have 
come to ask a favor, but not such a one as your majesty sup- 
poses. We have grown melancholy, and your royal hand 
can heal us. ” 

“ Grown melancholy ! You, the boldest, gayest cavaliers 
in Paris ! ” 

u Yes, sire,” sighed De Conti. “We cannot sleep for think- 
ing of the laurels of our kinsman of Savoy, and we humbly 
crave your royal permission to join the imperial crusade 
against the Turks.” 

Louis frowned, but quickly recovered himself . “Of course 
— of course,” replied he, condescendingly ; “ if the laurels of the 
little prince disturb your slumbers, you have my full consent 
to go after him. ’Twere a pity to deny you so small a boon.” 

And, without giving opportunity to the two princes to 
thank him, the king turned around and addressed Marshal 
Crequi : 

“Who knows,” said he, raising his voice, “whether these 
two silly boys have not chosen the wiser part ? Though they 
may never earn any laurels, they may fight away some of their 
folly — which loss would be to them great gain.” 

“ Sire, it is perfectly natural for youth to desire glory,” re- 
turned the old marshal. “ I think that thirst for fame is hon- 
orable to a young nobleman, and for this reason I have con- 
sented that my son, the Marquis de Blanchefort, should join the 
imperial crusade, provided he obtains your majesty’s consent. 
I venture to hope that your majesty will not refuse to him 
what you have conceded to the Princes de Conti.” 

Louis looked with amazement at the smiling countenance 
of the old marshal, but he answered as before : 

“ I certainly will not do less for your son than for the De 
Contis. He has my consent to accompany them on their jour- 
ney after glory.” 

The young Marquis de Blanchefort, who was near at hand, 
would have expressed his gratitude for the royal permission to 
leave France, but t£e king turned coldly away, and darted a 
peremptory glance at Louvois. 


THE KING AND THE PETITIONERS. 


405 


The minister understood, and came forward at once. 

De Blanch efort, meanwhile, hurried off to join the De 
Contis, who, surrounded by a group of young noblemen, were 
engaged in a low, but earnest conversation. 

“ I have my discharge,” whispered he. 

“ Then you are the third one upon whom fortune has smiled 
to-day,” sighed the young Duke de Brienne. “ I wish I were 
as far advanced as you.” 

“ Allow me to give the three lucky knights a bit of advice,” 
whispered the Duke de la Roche Guyon, Louvois’s son-in-law. 
“ Make use of the king’s permission without delay. Who 
knows, but when the rest of us prefer our petitions, he may 
not withdraw his consent from you ? ” 

“ My dear friend,” said the younger De Conti, '“ our trunks 
are packed, and our travelling-carriage awaits us at the corner 
of the Rue St. Honore. Nobody knows what may happen ; so 
that we are about to depart without parade, bidding adieu to 
our friends by notes of farewell.” 

“ You have acted with foresight,” replied the duke. “ And 
you, De Blanchefort, when do you start ? ” 

“ My father is a soldier, and admires punctuality,” answered 
the marquis. “ Yesterday afternoon he presented me with a 
new travelling-chariot, and this morning he ordered it to be 
ready for my departure, at the corner of the Garde Meubles. 
That is even nearer than the Rue St. Honore, and if you will 
allow me, I ily to see if it is still there.” 

“ Do so,” returned the duke, “ and our dear princes would 
do well to follow your example.” 

“We were about to take our leave, and now — ” began 
young De Conti. 

“ Away with you ! ” was the reply ; and the three young 
men, murmuring, “ Au revoir,” disappeared behind the portiere 
which led to the antechamber, and sped away from the Louvre 
to their carriages. 

“Messieurs,” said the Duke de la Roche Guyon, taking 
out his watch, “ we must give them a quarter of an hour, 
before we irritate his majesty by preferring our own peti- 
tions.” 

When the quarter of an hour had elapsed, the duke re- 


406 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


placed his watch, and resumed : “ Now let us go and try our 
luck.” 

“ Shall we go together, or one by one ? ” inquired the Duke 
de Liancourt. 

“We are four, and the king’s good-nature is soon exhausted. 
The last two petitioners would indubitably be rebuffed, so I 
think we had better go in a body. ” 

“ With yourself as spokesman,” said De Brienne. 

“ Right ! ” echoed the others, and they are all approached 
the king. He was engaged in conversation with Louvois, and 
interrupted himself to stare at the four young men, as if he 
had been greatly astonished to see them. 

“ Here is your son-in-law,” observed he to Louvois. “ What 
can he want ? ” 

“ Indeed, sire, nobody knows his wants less than I. He is 
my daughter’s husband, but no friend of mine.” 

“Here are De Turenne, De Brienne, and De Liancourt at 
his heels,” replied the king, trying to stare them out of coun- 
tenance, while the poor young men waited in vain for the 
royal permission to speak. 

At last the Duke de la Roche Guyon gathered courage to 
begin. 

“ Your majesty, we come with all respect — ” 

“ We ! ” echoed the king. “ Then you represent four peti- 
tioners.” 

“Yes, your majesty, the three here present and myself. 
May I be permitted to state the nature of our petition ? ” 

The king bowed, and De la Roche Guyon resumed : “ Sire, 
we are all, like the Princes de Conti and the Marquis de 
Blanchefort, envious of the laurels of Eugene of Savoy. We 
are athirst for glory.” 

“ And you come to ask if I will not make war to gratify 
your greed for fame ? ” asked the king, eagerly. 

“ Sire ! ” exclaimed the duke, “ can you imagine such assur- 
ance on the part of your subjects? No— we merely ask per- 
mission to join the imperial army.” 

“ The army of the Emperor of Germany ! ” cried Louis, in 
a voice so loud and angry that his courtiers grew pale, and 
almost forgot to breathe. But the Duke de la Roche 


THE WINDOW THAT WAS TOO LARGE. 407 

Guy on had steeled himself against the bolts of this Jupiter 
Tonans. 

“Yes, sire,” replied he, courteously, “ the army of the em- 
peror who represents Christendom doing battle with Moham- 
medanism. It is a holy cause, and we hope that it has your 
majesty’s sympathy and approbation.” 

“ It would appear that the youth of my court are drifting 
into imbecility,” replied the king, with a contemptuous shrug. 
“ They need a physician ; and it will be time enough to listen 
to any request they may have to make, when they shall have 
returned to their senses.” 

“ Your majesty refuses us ! ” said the duke, bitterly. 

“ When the king has spoken, sir,” replied Louis, haughtily, 
“ it becomes his subjects to obey and be silent. The court is 
dismissed ! Monsieur de Louvois, you will go with me to Tria- 
non, to inspect the new palace. The court are at liberty to ac- 
company us.” 

This “at liberty” being a command which nobody dared 
resist, the king had no sooner left the room than the courtiers 
hastened to their carriages and gave orders to their various 
coachmen to join the royal cortege. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE WINDOW THAT WAS TOO LARGE. 

Meanwhile the king had made his way to the boudoir of 
his marquise, who advanced joyfully to meet him. 

“ Madame,” said he, “ I am about to drive to Trianon ; will 
you accompany me ? Decide according to your own judgment ; 
do not inconvenience yourself on my account.” 

“ Your majesty knows that I live in your presence,” sighed 
the marquise, “ but — ” 

“But you dare not leave your room. Well — I am sorry ; 
you would have enjoyed the drive.” 

“The drive to Trianon,” replied the marquise, “where, as 
an architect, Louvois will be the theme of your majesty’s enco- 
miums.” 


408 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The king’s lip cnrled. “ Scarcely ’’—said he. “ I do not 
think that Louvois will enjoy his visit to-day. I am not at all 
pleased with his plans, nor will I be at pains to conceal my 
displeasure.” 

The marquise looked inquiringly into the face of the king. 
It was smiling and significant. 

“ Sire,” said the marquise, “ are you in earnest ? May I in- 
deed be permitted to accompany you to Trianon ? ” 

“ Indeed, you cannot conceive how much I regret your in- 
ability to go,” returned Louis. 

“ Oh, sire, my love is mightier than my infirmities ; it shall 
lend me strength, and I shall have the unspeakable bliss of ac- 
companying you.” 

“ I counted upon you,” returned Louis. “ So let us go at 
once ; the court waits, and punctuality is the politeness of 
kings.” 

Without paying the least attention to Louvois, who. as 
superintendent of the royal edifices, stood close at hand, the 
king entered his coach, and assisted Madame de Maintenon, as 
she took her place at his side. Louvois had expected to be in- 
vited to ride with the king, and this oversight, he knew, be- 
tokened something sinister for him. 

And what could it be ? “ The old bigot has been sowing 
her tares again,” said he to himself. “ There is some mortifica- 
tion in store for me, or she would not have exposed herself to 
this sharp autumn blast to-day.” And he ran over all the late 
occurrences of the court, that he might disentangle the knotted 
thread of the king’s ill-humor. “It must be that accursed 
business of the Prince of Savoy, and the king is no better than 
these silly lads ; the laurels of the little abbe keep him awake 
at night, and he vents his spleen upon me. What an over- 
sight it was of mine, to let that Eugene escape ! Had I caused 
him to disappear from this wicked world and given him an 
asylum in the Bastile, he never would have troubled us with 
his doings in Germany. There was my blunder — my unpar- 
donable blunder. But it cannot be recalled, and the king’s 
vanity is so insatiable, that there is no knowing how it is ever 
to be appeased. I must succumb for the present, and — Ah ! ” 
cried he, interrupting the current of his despondency, “ I think 


THE WINDOW THAT WAS TOO LARGE. 


409 


I can repair my error. We must allow his envious majesty 
to gather a handful of these laurels for which he has such a 
longing. We must put the Emperor of Germany in check, 
and—” 

Just then the iron gates of Trianon opened to admit the 
carriage, and the superintendent of the royal edifices made 
haste to alight and wait the arrival of the king. 

For the first time, his majesty condescended to seem aware 
of Louvois’ presence. “Monsieur,” said he, to the tottering 
favorite, “ I have come to inspect this chateau. Madame la 
marquise, it being intended as a pleasure-house for yourself, 
you will oblige me by speaking frankly on the subject.” 

So saying, he gave his arm to madame, and the court, with 
heads uncovered, came submissively behind. 

“ Follow us,” said the king. 

This “ us ” delighted the marquise, for it was an informal 
acknowledgment of her right to be considered as the king's 
consort. With her large eyes beaming with joy, and her face 
radiant with triumph, she went, hanging on Louis’ arm, over 
the chateau which his munificence had prepared for her occu- 
pation in summer. Immediately behind them walked Louvois ; 
and after him a long procession of nobles, not one of whom 
dared to utter a word. The central building was pronounced 
satisfactory ; its front and marble colonnade received their 
due meed of praise, and the king ended by these words : 

“ I am perfectly satisfied with Mansard ; he is reaUv a dis- 
tinguished architect.” 

“ Sire,” returned Louvois, to whom this eulogium had been 
addressed, “Mansard will be overjoyed to hear of his sov- 
ereign’s approbation. But your majesty will pardon me if I 
appropriate some portion of your praise ; the ground-plan of 
the building is mine. I furnished it to Mansard.” 

The king made no reply to this attempt to extort a word of 
approval ; he merely nodded, and went on his way. They 
had now reached a point whence the right fagade of the build- 
ing was brought to view. 

“ Monsieur,” said Louis, pointing to the central window, 
“ this window is out of proportion.” 

“ Pardon me, sire,” returned Louvois, submissively, “ it is 

2r 


410 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


exactly of the size of the central window in front, and only 
appears larger because of the absence of a colonnade.” 

“ Sir,” said the king, indignantly, “ I tell you that this win- 
dow is much too large, and unless it he reduced the entire 
palace is a failure.” 

“ I must, nevertheless, abide by my judgment, sire,” replied 
Louvois, respectfully. “ The two windows are exactly alike ; 
this one being more conspicuous than the other, but not one 
inch higher.” 

“ Then you have been guilty of some great oversight by 
allowing it to appear higher than the other,” returned the 
king, rudely. “ Your plan is ridiculous, and the sooner you 
set about mending it the better.” 

“ Sire,” said Louvois, bitterly, “ when praise was to be 
awarded, the credit of the plan was Mansard’s — ” 

“ But as you did not choose to concede it, you must accept 
the blame of your blunder. Your vision is not acute, sir, a 
defect that is as unbecoming in an architect as in a war minis- 
ter. You have been equally blind to the monstrous size of 
yonder window, and to the great genius of my kinsman, Eu- 
gene of Savoy. Unhappily, your want of judgment, as re- 
gards the man, is irreparable ; the defect in your window you 
will be so good as to correct. ” 

“ Sire,” said Louvois, trembling with anger, “ I beg to be 
discharged from my duties as architect to your majesty. Un- 
der the circumstances, I feel myself inadequate to perform its 
duties.” 

“ You are quite right,” replied the king. “ You will then 
have more leisure to devote to the war department, and to de- 
vise some means for gratifying the national love of glory, 
without driving my French nobles to foreign courts for distinc- 
tion. — Come, madame,” added the king, to the marquise, who, 
all this time, had been standing with eyes cast down ; the very 
personification of humility. — “Let us proceed to Versailles ; 
for this ungainly window has taken away my breath. I must 
have change of scene for the remainder of the day.” 

As they took their seat in the coach, the marquise whis- 
pered : “ Oh, sire ! how overwhelming, yet how noble, is your 
anger ! I should die under it, were it directed toward me ; 


THE WINDOW THAT WAS TOO LARGE. 


411 


and, in spite of all Louvois’ ill-will toward me, I pitied him. so 
sincerely that I could scarcely restrain my impulse to inter- 
cede for him.” 

“ You are an angel,” was the stereotyped reply. 

Meanwhile, the court were preparing to follow the royal 
equipage. Louvois stood by, but not one of the nobles seemed 
aware of his presence ; he was out of favor, and thereby in- 
visible to courtly eyes. 

On the afternoon of the same day the minister of war, 
with brow serene and countenance unruffled, entered the 
council-chamber of the king. He had found a remedy for his 
annoyances at Trianon, and he pretended not to see the mar- 
quise, who, as usual, sat embroidering in the deep embrasure 
of a window, almost concealed from view by its velvet cur- 
tains. 

“ Sire,” said Louvois, “ I come before your majesty with 
proposals of great moment, and I await with much anxiety 
your decision.” 

“Let us hear your proposals,” said the king, languidly. 
“ Have more couriers arrived with news of Austrian suc- 
cesses ? ” 

“ No, sire, we have had enough of Austrian victories, and I 
am of opinion that the emperor must receive his check from 
the powerful hand of France. It is time that your majesty 
interposed to change his fortunes.” 

The king was startled out of his indifference. He raised 
his head to listen, while the marquise dropped her work, and 
applied he* ear to the opening in the curtains. 

“Your majesty has acted toward this arrogant Austrian 
with a forbearance that is more than human. Well I know 
that your humane aversion to bloodshed has been in part the 
cause of your unparalleled magnanimity ; but you have been 
thwarted in your choice of an Elector of Cologne ; your claims 
to Alsatia and Lorraine have been set aside ; the dower of her 
royal highness the Duchess of Orleans has been refused you ; 
and patience under so many affronts has ceased to be a virtue. 
The honor of France must be sustained, and we must evoke, as 
a last resort, the demon of war.” 

“ Gracious Heaven ! ” said the marquise, behind her cur- 


412 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


tain, “ if he rouses the king’s ambition, I shall occupy but a 
secondary position at the court of France, and he will be more 
influential than ever ! Louis has already forgotten me, else 
he would call me to his side before he decides so weighty a 
matter.” 

The marquise was shrewd, and did not err in her specula- 
tions : Louis had indeed forgotten her presence. His heart 
was full of covetousness and resentment at the opposition of 
that presuming Leopold, who penetrated his designs upon 
the Rhenish provinces of the empire, and he thirsted for venge- 
ance. 

“ Yes,” replied he, “ I have given an example of forbearance 
which must have astonished all Europe. I would have been 
glad to settle our differences in a Christian-like manner ; but 
Leopold is deaf to all reason and justice — ” 

At this moment the king’s voice was rendered inaudible by 
a loud cough which proceeded from the window wherein the 
marquise had retired from observation. 

“ My dear Fran^oise,” exclaimed Louis, “ come and take 
your part in this important council of war. ” 

The hangings were parted, and out she stepped ; slightly 
acknowledging the salute of the minister, she passed him by, 
and took an arm-chair at the side of the king. 

“You have heard us discussing, have you not?” asked 
Louis. 

“Yes, sire,” sighed she, “I have heard every thing.” 

“Then you understand that it concerns my honor to make 
war upon Germany ? ” 

The marquise turned her flashing eyes upon the one that 
held this royal honor in his keeping. “ Sire,” said she, “ I 
am slow of comprehension ; for it has just occurred to me 
that 'your majesty’s criticism upon a window at Trianon is 
to be productive of results most disastrous to the French na- 
tion.” 

“ This criticism concerns nobody but Mansard,” observed 
Louvois, carelessly. “ I am no longer superintendent of the 
royal edifices.” 

“Ido not understand you, madame,” interposed the king. 
“ What has a window at Trianon to do with the affairs of 


THE WINDOW THAT WAS TOO LARGE. 


413 


the nation ? Pray let us be serious, and come to a determina- 
tion.” 

tk Sire,” asked the marquise, “ is not this matter already de- 
termined ? ” 

The king kissed her hand. “ It is — and your inquiry is a 
new proof of your penetration. How truly you sympathize 
with my emotions ! How clearly you read the pages of my 
heart ! Yes, dear marquise, war is inevitable.” 

“ Then our days of happiness are at an end,” returned she, 
sadly ; “ and your majesty’s heart will descend from the con- 
templation of heavenly things, to thoughts of strife and cruel 
bloodshed.” 

“ The war is a holy one,” interrupted Louvois, “ and God 
Himself holds a monarch responsible for the honor of his peo- 
ple.” 

“Well spoken, Louvois,” replied the king, approvingly. 
“ The cause is just, and the Lord of hosts will battle for ns. 
You, marquise, will be our intercessor with Heaven.” 

“ But your majesty will not be nigh to pray with me,” said 
the marquise, in regretful tones. 

The king made no reply to this affectionate challenge ; he 
continued to speak with Louvois, enjoining upon him to has- 
ten his preparations. 

“Sire, my plans are laid,” replied Louvois. 

“ Already ! ” cried Louis, joyfully. 

“ Already ! ” echoed De Maintenon, affrighted. 

“ Sire,” continued Louvois, “ as soon as your majesty has 
approved my plan, the couriers, who are waiting without, will 
transfer your royal commands to the army. It is my design 
to march at once upon the Rhenish provinces, and to take pos- 
session of the Palatinate.” 

“ Good ! hut will our army be strong enough to fight the 
emperor and the Germanic confederation at once ? ” 

“ Sire, the emperor shall have occupation elsewhere, 
and the princes of the empire must be terrified into submis- 
sion.” 

“ But how, now ? ” 

“ Both ends may be reached by one stroke. The Rhenish 
provinces, Alsatia, and the Palatinate, must be transformed 


414 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


into a waste. We must wage against Germany a war of de- 
struction, whose fearful consequences will be felt there for a 
century to come.” 

“ Oh, sire,” exclaimed De Maintenon, such a war is contrary 
to the laws of God and man ! Shall France, the most refined 
country on the globe, set to civilized Europe an example of 
barbarity only to be equalled by the atrocities of the Huns and 
Vandals ? ” 

“ My dear marquise,” cried Louis, fretfully, “ do be silent. 
— Go on, Louvois, and let me hear your plans.” 

“Sire, they are very simple. We have only to march on 
the German towns, sack and burn them, and put to the sword 
all those that presume to defy the power of France. We must 
spread consternation throughout all Germany, that your 
majesty’s name may cause every cheek to pale, and every 
heart to sink with fear. The enemy shall provision our army, 
and forage our horses. We will take possession of their 
magazines, stores, and shambles ; and to every house that re- 
fuses us gold, we will apply the devouring torch. Thus we 
will make it impossible for the emperor to advance to Lor- 
raine ; and the wide desert that intervenes between us will be- 
come French territory.” 

“ I approve your mode of warfare, Louvois ; it is good. If 
the emperor had ratified my choice of an Elector of Cologne, 
and had sustained my claims to Lorraine and Alsatia, I would 
have conceded him as many triumphs as he chose in Transyl- 
vania. As he opposes me, let him take the consequence — war 
with all its horrors ! ” 

“Your majesty empowers me, then, to dispatch my cou- 
riers ? ” said Louvois. 

“ I do, my dear marquis,” was the gracious reply, while the 
royal hand was held out to be kissed. 

Louvois pressed it to his lips, as a lover does the rosy fingers 
4>f his mistress, and, hastening away with the agility of a young 
man, sprang into his carriage, and drove oft*. “ ‘ My dear mar- 
quis,’” murmured he, with a smile of complacency. “He 
called me his dear marquis, and the storm of his displeasure 
has passed away. I came very near being struck by its light- 
ning, nevertheless. That De Maintenon is a shrewd woman, 


THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 


415 


and found me out at once. Yes ! — yes, your majesty ! Had 
you admired my window at Trianon, I should not have been 
obliged to involve you in a war with Germany.” 


CHAPTER V. 

THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 

In 1687 the imperial Diet assembled at Regensburg, to ex- 
amine the claims of the King of France to Alsatia, Lorraine, 
the Palatinate, and other possessions, which his majesty longed 
to appropriate out of the domains of his neighbors. 

On the 2d of October, 1689, a travelling- carriage might have 
been seen standing in front of the large, antiquated building 
occupied by Count Spaur, the envoy of the Emperor Leopold. 

The postilion sounded his horn, and cracked his whip with 
such vehemence, that here and there an inquiring and angry 
face might be seen at the neighboring windows, peering out 
upon the untimely intruders, who were making dawn hideous 
by their clattering arrival. The footman sprang from his 
board, and thundered with all his might at the door, while, 
between each interval of knocking, the postilion accom- 
panied him by a fanfare that stirred up the sleeping echoes 
of that dull old town in a manner that was astonishing to 
hear. 

Finally, their zeal was rewarded by the appearance of a 
man’s head at the window on the ground floor, and the sound 
of his voice inquiring who it was that was making all this up- 
roar. 

“ Who we are ? ” echoed the footman. “We are individuals 
entitled to make an uproar, and shall continue to make it until 
we obtain admission to the presence of Count Spaur for his 
excellency Count von Crenneville, who comes on important 
business from his imperial majesty the emperor.” 

This pompous announcement had the desired effect ; it 
awed the porter into civility, and he hastened to inform the 
footman of his excellency, that Count Spaur being in bed, he 


416 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


would inform the valet, and have the Austrian ambassador ap- 
prised of the visit of Count von Crenneville. 

“ Open your door before you go, and admit his excellency 
into the house,” cried the footman, imperiously. 

“ I dare not,” replied the porter, shaking his head. “ I am 
not at liberty to admit anybody, until I have orders to do so 
from the valet of Count Spaur.” 

“Not admit the emperor’s envoy?” exclaimed the indig- 
nant lackey. That is an affront to his excellency.” 

“ I do not know the person of his excellency,” persisted the 
porter, “ and how do I know but some petty ducal envoy may 
not be playing a trick on me, and so obtain fraudulent en- 
trance to the house of the Austrian ambassador ? ” 

“You presume to apply such language to Count von 
Crenneville ! ” cried the footman. “ I shall — ” 

“ Peace, Caspar ! ” said a voice from the carriage ; “ the 
honest fellow is quite right, and deserves no blame for his 
prudence. Nevertheless, as we are no impostors, hasten, my 
good friend, to the valet, and let me have entrance, for I am 
very tired.” 

At this moment the porter was put aside, and a man in rich 
livery came forward. 

“ Count Spaur has risen, and will be happy to receive his 
excellency Count von Crenneville,” said he. At these magical 
words the heavy doors were opened, and the envoy sprang 
lightly from his carriage, and entered the house. At the head 
of the staircase he was met by Count Spaur, who apologized 
for being compelled to receive his guest in a dressing-gown. 

“ It would not be the first time that I have seen you in a 
deshabille, my dear comrade,” replied Von Crenneville, “ for 
you cannot have forgotten the old days when we were quar- 
tered together in Hungary. As I presume you have not break- 
fasted, I will take the liberty of inviting myself to breakfast, 
for I am hungry and exhausted by travelling all night.” 

Count Spaur offered his arm, and conducted his guest to 
the dining-room, where breakfast was about to be served. 

Count von Crenneville threw aside his military cloak, un- 
fastened a few buttons of his uniform, and took his seat at the 
table. 


THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 


417 


“ I am delighted to see you,” said Count Spaur, handing a 
cup of chocolate. “ Your arrival is a delicious interruption to 
the stupid life I had in Regensburg.” 

When they had breakfasted, Count Spaur led the way to 
his cabinet, and the conference began by Count von Crenne- 
ville handing a packet to his friend from the emperor. 

The latter received it with a profound inclination, and care- 
fully cutting it, so as to avoid breaking the seal, he opened it, 
and prepared to naake himself master of its contents. 

He shook his head dolefully. “ His majesty asks impossi- 
bilities of me,” sighed he. “ Do you know what this letter 
contains ? ” 

“Be so kind as to read it to me.” 

So Count Spaur began : “ My dear Count, — It is time this 
imperial Diet end their petty quarrels, and go seriously to 
work ; for these are no days wherein important interests may 
be neglected for the sake of etiquette. Announce to the Diet 
that I require of them to be serious, and to come to the assist- 
ance of their fatherland. Count von Crenneville, who will 
deliver this to you, is empowered to declare the same to the 
assembled representatives of the Germanic Confederation. 

(Signed) “Leopold, Emperor.” 

“ It seems to me that the demand is a reasonable one,” re- 
marked Count von Crenneville. 

“ But impossible of compliance. Do you know how long the 
Diet has been sitting at Regensburg ? ” 

“Two years, I believe.” 

“Well : do you know what they have been doing for these 
two years ? ” 

“ No, count ; it is precisely to learn this that his majesty 
has sent me here,” said Von Crenneville. 

“ I will tell you then. They have been profoundly engaged 
in settling questions of diplomatic etiquette. You may laugh, 
if you like ; but for one that has been obliged to hear it all, it 
is wearisome beyond expression. The first trouble arose from 
the etiquette of visiting. As imperial envoy, I received the 
first visit from them all, I returned my calls, and so far all was 
well. But when the other envoys were to visit among them- 
selves, the dissensions began. Each man wrote to his sover- 


418 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


eign, and each sovereign upheld his man ; couriers came and 
went, and for a time Regensburg was alive with arrivals and 
departures.” 

“And meanwhile the King of France was allowed to build 
his bridges across the Rhine,” observed Count von Crenne- 
ville. 

“ My dear friend, the King of France might have dethroned 
the emperor, meanwhile, without a protest. Nothing under 
heaven could be attended to, while this visiting question was 
on the tapis.” 

“ Is it decided ? ” 

“ After three months of daily conferences, during which I 
exhausted more statesmanship than would overturn an empire, 
it was decided that the envoys of the princes would call on the 
envoys of the electors, provided the latter would come half 
way down the staircase to meet the former.” 

“ God be thanked ! They could then proceed to business ! ” 

Count Spaur replied by a melancholy shake of the head. 

“ You are not aware that, before the Diet assemble, a ban- 
quet is given, at which all are expected to be present. You 
are furthermore not cognizant of the fact that every concomi- 
tant of this banquet has been made a subject of strife, from 
the day on which the visiting question was arranged, until 
the present time.” 

“ My dear count, I pity you.” 

“ You may well do so. The electoral envoys claimed the 
right of using gold knives and forks, while they exacted that 
the ducal representatives should be content with silver. These 
latter resented the indignity, and of course the banquet had to 
be postponed.” 

“ This is pitiful indeed ; but go on.” 

“ Then came the question of the color Of the arm-chairs 
around the table. The electoral envoys claimed the right of 
having their seats covered in red ; and contended that the 
others were obliged by etiquette to cover theirs with green. 
The others would not accept the green, and so arose the third 
point of discussion. The fourth disagreement was about the 
carpets. The electorals would have the four legs of their 
chairs on the carpet (which is narrow), and the others should 



THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 


419 


have but the /ore-legs of theirs. The fifth regarded the May- 
bougns. On May-day, the electorals exacted that the superin- 
tendent of public festivities should put six boughs over their 
front doors, while the others must content themselves with 
five. Now, my dear count, you are made acquainted with the 
subjects of discussion which for two years have detained the 
imperial Diet in Regensburg ; which have imbittered my days, 
and made sleepless my nights ; which have nigh lost the cause 
of German nationality, and have made us the laughing-stock 
of all Europe.” 

“My friend, I sympathize with you.— But are these five 
questions not decided ? ” 

“ No, they are not. The ducal envoys indignantly refused 
to yield to the pretensions of their colleagues, and no banquet 
could be given. After much exertion on my part to bring 
about an understanding, the banquet was set aside, and a com- 
promise was effected. All the arm-chairs were covered with 
green — this was a concession to the ducal envoys ; while they, 
on their part, consented that the hind-legs of their chairs 
should rest on the bare floor ! ” * 

“What a victory! I congratulate you from my heart; 
for I would much rather have charged a regiment of Jani- 
zaries.” 

“ And at least have earned some glory thereby,” returned 
Spaur, grimly. “ But the only reward I shall ever reap will 
be the unpleasant notoriety I shall have acquired as a member 
of this stultified assembly.” 

“ My dear friend, be under no uneasiness as to that. The 
King of France has crossed our frontiers, and you are about 
to throw aside diplomacy and take up the sword. This is the 
message with which the emperor has charged me, both to 
yourself and to the imperial Diet.” 

“ I am happy to tell you that to-day the Diet opens its sit- 
ting. Hark ! the bells are ringing ! This announces to Re- 
gensburg that the envoys are about to proceed to the hall of 
conference. Excuse me while I retire to change my dress.” 

“ I will betake myself to the nearest hotel to follow your 
example,” replied Yon Crenneville. 

* Putter, “ Historical Notes on the Constitution of the German Empire.” 


420 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ By no means. Your room is prepared, and I will conduct 
you thither at once, if you wish.” 

Fifteen or twenty minutes elapsed, w T hen the two imperial 
envoys met again, and drove, in the state-carriage of Count 
Spaur, to the hall of conference. The other envoys were all 
assembled, and, scattered in groups, seemed to be earnestly en- 
gaged in discussing some weighty matter. 

Count Spaur remarked this, and whispered to his col- 
league : “ I am afraid there is trouble brewing ; the electo- 
ral envoys are all on one side of the hall — the ducal on the 
other.” 

“ The electorals are those with the red cloaks — are they 
not ? ” 

“Yes, they are ; and I fear that these red cloaks signify 
war.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean war with — but, pardon me, I see that they are 
waiting for me to open the council.” 

With an inclination of the head, Count Spaur passed down 
the hall, and took his seat under the red canopy appropriated 
to the imperial ambassador. A deep silence reigned through- 
out the assembly, broken by the sweet chime of the bells that 
still continued to convey far and wide the intelligence of the 
opening of the conference. 

Count Spaur took off his Spanish hat, and, bowing right 
and left, addressed the envoys : 

“ My lords ambassadors of the electors, princes, and impe- 
rial cities of the German empire, in the name of his majesty 
Leopold I greet you, and announce that the imperial Diet 
is opened. Long live the emperor ! ” 

“ Long live the emperor ! ” echoed the ambassadors. 

“ The Diet is opened,” resumed he, “ and I have the honor 
to introduce an envoy of his imperial majesty, who has this 
day arrived from Vienna.” 

At this, Count von Crenneville advanced, and the master 
of ceremonies placed an arm-chair for him under the canopy, 
at the side of Count Spaur. 

At a signal from the latter, the other envoys took their 
seats, and Count von Crenneville addressed the assembly : 


THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 


421 


“ My lords ambassadors of the electors, princes, and impe- 
rial cities of the German empire, his majesty greets you all. 
But he is deeply wounded at the indifference manifested by 
the Diet to the dearest interests of Germany, and he implores 
you, as you value your nationality and liberty, to lay aside 
your petty dissensions, and to unite with him in defence 
of your fatherland. The King of France has marched his 
armies into Germany — and disunion to Germans is defeat and 
ruin.” 

This prelude appeared to cause considerable emotion. There 
was visible agitation throughout the assembly. 

Count von Crenneville felt encouraged, and was about to 
continue his appeal, when one of the electorals started from 
his seat and spoke : 

“ I beg pardon of the imperial envoy ; but I must ask per- 
mission of the imperial representative- resident to make a per- 
sonal remark.” 

“The permission is granted,” replied Count Spaur, sol- 
emnly. 

The envoy then continued, in loud and agitated tones : “I 
must, then, call the attention of this august assembly to a fla- 
grant violation of the compact agreed between the first and 
second class of these ambassadors, by the latter. They have 
advanced their arm-chairs until the four legs of the same are 
now resting upon the carpet.” 

“We merely advanced our seats, to hear what his excel- 
lency had to say,” remarked the envoy from Bremen. 

“ Nevertheless,” replied Count Spaur, “ I must request these 
gentlemen to recede. The understanding was, that their 
chairs were to rest partly on the carpet, partly on the floor.” 

Back went all the chairs, but their occupants looked dag- 
gers at the envoy from Mentz. 

Count von Crenneville then resumed the broken thread of 
his discourse : “ I earnestly request the assembly to come to a 
decision this very day. The country is in imminent danger, 
and can only be saved by unanimity and promptitude of ac- 
tion.” 

Here he was interrupted by the envoy from Bremen, who 
rose and begged to be allowed to make his personal remark. 


422 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Count Spaur gave the required permission, and Bremen be- 
gan to protest against Mentz Sc Co. 

“ I beg to remark, that the electoral envoys have spread out 
their red cloaks over the backs of the chairs, in such a way as 
to conceal the green covering entirely from view.” 

“ It is exceedingly warm in the hall,” replied electoral Co- 
logne ; “ we were compelled to throw off our cloaks.” 

“ Why, then, did the electoral envoys wear their cloaks ? ” 
was the inquiry of the other side. 

“ Because we had a right to wear them hither, and violate 
no compact by throwing them over our chairs.” 

“But the electoral envoys had no right to use them as up- 
holstery,” objected Bremen, in tragic tones. “ They have now 
the appearance of being seated on red arm-chairs.” 

“ So much the better,” replied Cologne. “ If accident has 
re-established our rights of precedence, nobody has any busi- 
ness to complain.” * 

This declaration was received with a burst of indignation, 
and the princely envoys rose simultaneously from their seats. 
A noisy and angry debate ensued, at the conclusion of which 
the offended party declared that they would rest every leg of 
their chairs upon the carpet ; and, as if at the word of com- 
mand, every man dragged his arm-chair most unequivocally 
forward, and surveyed the enemy with dogged defiance. 

There was now a commotion on the side of the electorals, 
in the midst of which Count Spaur, in perfect despair, cried 
out at the top of his voice : 

“ In the name of the emperor, I demand, on both sides, the 
literal fulfilment of your conditions. The electoral ambassa- 
dors must withdraw their red cloaks from the backs of their 
chairs, and throw them over the arms, and the other envoys 
must draw back their chairs until the hind-legs thereof are on 
the floor.” 

“My lords,” added Count von Crenneville, “I demand also, 
in the name of the emperor, that all personalities he cast aside, 
and that we give our hearts to our country’s cause. France is 
upon us. She knows how disunited are the princes of Ger- 
many, and their discord is her sheet-anchor. She knows that 


* Historical.— See Piitter. 


THE IMPERIAL DIET AT REGENSBURG. 


423 


you are unprepared to meet her, and the emperor, being at 
present too far to come to your rescue, she will attack you be- 
fore you have time to defend yourselves. Is it possible that 
you have sunk all patriotism in contemptible jealousies of one 
another ? I cannot believe it ! Away with petty rivalry and 
family dissensions : clasp hands and make ready to defend our 
fatherland ! ” 

At this moment there was a knock at the main entrance of 
the hall, and two masters of ceremonies appeared. 

“ I announce to the imperial commissaries, and the envoys 
of the German empire here assembled, that a messenger, with 
important tidings, requests admission to this illustrious com- 
pany.” 

“ Whence comes he ? ” asked Count Spaur. 

“ He announces himself as Count de Crecy, ambassador ex- 
traordinary of the King of France to the imperial Diet.” 

This communication was received in profound silence. 
Dismay was pictured on many a face, and every eye was 
turned upon the presiding envoy, the representative of the 
emperor. 

“ I lay it before the imperial Diet,” said he, at last, u whether 
the French ambassador shall be allowed entrance into the hall 
during the sitting of its members.” 

“ Ay, ay, let him enter,” was the reply — the first instance 
of unanimity among the envoys since the day they had ar- 
rived at Regensburg two years before ! 

The masters of ceremonies retired, and Count Spaur, put- 
ting on his hat, said : lk I declare this sitting suspended. My 
lords, cover your heads ! ” 

The French ambassador, followed by a numerous retinue, 
now entered the hall. He advanced to the canopy where the 
imperial envoys were seated, and inclined his head. Not a 
word was spoken in return for his salutation ; and, after a 
short pause, he raised his voice, and delivered his message : 

“In the name of his most Christian majesty, Louis XIV., 
King of France, I announce to the Diet of the German empire 
that he has taken possession of Bonn, Kaiserswerth, and other 
strongholds of the archbishopric of Cologne ; that Mentz has 
opened her doors to his victorious armies, and that war is de- 


424 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


dared between France and Germany. The sword is drawn, 
nor shall it return to its scabbard until the inheritance of the 
Duchess of Orleans is given up to France, and the King of 
France is recognized as lord and sovereign of Lorraine, Alsatia, 
and the Netherlands ! War is declared ! ” 


CHAPTEK VI. 

THE JUDITH OF ESSLINGEN. 

It was a clear, bright morning in March. The snow had 
long since melted from the mountain-tops, flowers had begun 
to peep out of the earth’s bosom, and the trees that grew upon 
the heights around Esslingen were decked with buds of tender 
green. 

But the inhabitants of Esslingen had no pleasure in con- 
templating those verdant hills ; for the castle that crowned 
their summit was in possession of the French. Within its 
walls the enemy were feasting and drinking, while the owners 
of the soil, plundered of all they possessed, had naught left to 
them on earth save the cold, bare boards of their homes, where- 
in, a few weeks before, peace and plenty had reigned. 

On the 2d of March, 1689, the French reduced the castle of 
Heidelberg to a heap of ashes, and for more than a century its 
bleak ruins kept alive the hatred of Germanj^ toward their 
relentless enemies. 

God had permitted them to spread desolation over the land. 
He had withdrawn His help from the innocent, and had suf- 
fered the wicked to triumph. After plundering their houses 
of every necessary of life, General Melac now required of them 
tribute in the shape of twenty thousand florins. To raise one- 
fourth of the sum was an impossibility in Esslingen ; and the 
burghers of the town had gone in a body to the castle to beg 
for mercy. 

Two hours had elapsed since they had departed on their 
dangerous mission, and the people, with throbbing hearts, 
awaited their return. Up to this day, they had mourned and 


THE JUDITH OF ESSLINGEN. 


425 


wept in the solitude of their plundered homes ; but in this 
hour of mortal suspense, they had instinctively sought com- 
panionship ; and now the market-place, in whose centre was 
the ancient town -hall, was thronged with men, women, and 
children, of every degree. Misfortune had levelled all dis- 
tinctions of rank, and the common danger had cemented 
thousands of human beings into one stricken and terrified 
family. 

They stood, their anxious looks fixed upon the winding 
path which led to the castle, while all around at the open win- 
dows pale-faced women hoped and feared by turns, as they saw 
light or shadow upon the faces of the multitude below. 

Just opposite the council-hall was a house of dark-gray 
stone, with a bow-window and a richly-fretted gable. At the 
window stood two persons ; one a woman whose head was en- 
veloped in a black veil which set off the extreme paleness of 
her face, and fell in long folds around her person. Near her 
stood a young girl similarly attired ; but, instead of the hair 
just tinged with gray, which lay in smooth bands across the 
forehead of her companion, her golden curls, stirred by the 
breeze, encircled her young head like a halo, and the veil that 
fluttered lightly around her graceful person lay like a misty 
cloud about a face as beautiful in color as it was in feature. 
Spite of suffering and privation, the brow was smooth and 
fair, the cheeks were tinged with rose, and the lips were scarlet 
as autumn berries. She, like the rest, had endured hunger and 
cold ; but youth is warmed and nourished by Hope, and the 
tears that dim a maiden’s eyes are but dew-drops glittering 
upon a beautiful rose. 

Her face was serious and anxious, but her large black eyes 
flashed with expectation, and the parted lips showed that hope 
was stronger than fear in her young heart. Marie was the 
only child of the chief burgomaster of Esslingen, and the lady 
at her side was his honored wife. 

“Do you see nothing, my child?” said the mother. 
“ Great God ! this suspense is worse than death ! Your father 
expected to be back within an hour, and more than two hours 
have gone by ! ” 

The young girl strained her eyes, and looked up the castle- 
28 


426 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


road, which was just opposite the house. “ Mother,” said she, 
“ I see something dark issuing from the gates.” 

“ Oh, look again ! Ts it they ? ” 

“ Yes ; I think so, dear mother. I see them advancing : it 
must be father and the deputies. Now I begin to distinguish 
one from the other. There are one— two— three. Great God, 
mother ! were there not seven ? I see but six ! ” 

“Yes — seven. Your father, two burgomasters, and four 
senators. Are you sure ? Look — count once more.” 

“ I see them distinctly now : there are six. They will be 
hidden presently by the winding of the road ; but I see them 
each one as he turns aside.” 

“ And there are but six ! One of them is missing ! Oh, 
merciful Father, which of them can it be ? ” 

“ I see them no longer. Alas ! they are too far for recogni- 
tion, and we must wait. Oh, mother, how my heart pains me ! ” 

“ Let us pray, my darling,” returned the mother, clasping 
her daughter’s trembling hands. 

“ Dear mother, I cannot ! I am too miserable to pray. If 
Caspar were but here, I should feel less wretched.” 

“And yet, as a soldier of the imperial army, he is in less 
danger than he would be, as a civilian of Esslingen. I thank 
Heaven, dear Marie, that your betrothed is not here. At least 
he fights face to face, with arms in hand ; while we — oh, what 
weapon can avail against midnight murder and incendia- 
rism ? ” 

“ And yet,” sighed Marie, “ I would he were here to protect 
me ! ” 

“ He would not be allowed to protect you, for, had he seen 
the familiarity of that despot yesterday, he would in all prob- 
ability have lost his life in your defence.” 

“ I had not thought of that, I had only yearned for his pro- 
tecting arm. Yes, mother, he would have done some desperate 
deed had he seen the blood-stained hand of that accursed 
Frenchman when it touched my cheek, and heard his insolent 
tones as he asked whether its roses were colored by nature or 
art. Oh, mother, what a misfortune for us that we were on 
the street when he arrived ! ” 

Mother and daughter now relapsed into silence, for the 


THE JUDITH OF ESSLINGEN. 


427 


deputies, their heads despondingly held down, were to be seen 
making their way through the crowd. Frau Wengelin could 
not articulate the words she longed to speak ; but Marie, clasp- 
ing her hands in agony, cried out : 

“ He is not there ! My father is missing ! ” 

With one faint shriek, her mother fell senseless to the floor, 
while Marie, darting out of the house, made her way through 
the throng to the market-place, and overtook the deputies as 
they were ascending the steps that led to the hall of council. 
Grasping the arm of the first she encountered, she looked 
wildly into his eyes, while her quivering lips vainly tried to 
murmur, “ Where is my father ? ” 

The old man understood those pleading looks, and answered 
them with tears. 

“ Where is my father ? ” cried Marie, with the strength of 
her growing agony ; and, as the deputy was still silent, the 
multitude around took up the young girl’s words and shouted : 
“ Where is her father ? Tell us where is the Burgomaster 
Wengelin ? ” 

“ Is he dead ? ” murmured Marie, her teeth chattering with 
fear. 

“ No, Marie,” replied the senator, “ he is not dead, but if no 
help is vouchsafed from above, he will die to-day, and we must 
all die with him.” 

The people broke into a long wail, and Marie fell upon her 
knees to pray. She could frame no words wherewith to cry 
for mercy, but her soul w T as with God ; and for a few moments 
she was rapt in an ecstasy that bore her far, far away from 
the weeping multitude around. She was recalled from her 
pious transport by the voice of her uncle, one of the deputies, 
who was addressing the people. 

General Melac had mocked at their petition. They had 
humbled themselves on their knees for the sake of their suffer- 
ing fellow-citizens, but the heartless Frenchman had laughed, 
and, laughing, reiterated his command. 

If before sunset the five hundred thousand francs were not 
forthcoming, the French soldiery would be there with fire and 
sword. The inhabitants should be exterminated, and Esslin- 
gen laid in ashes. 


428 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


This horrible disclosure was received with another burst of 
woe, except from the unfortunate Marie, who stood like a pale 
and rigid Niobe — her grief too deep for tears or sighs. 

When the tumult had somewhat subsided, the senator re- 
sumed his sad recital. At sound of the Frenchman’s cruel 
mandate, the Burgomaster Wengelin had risen from his knees, 
and raising his head proudly, had cried out : “ Give us back 
that of which you have robbed us, and we can pay you ten 
times the sum you ask. We were a peaceful and prosperous 
community until your plundering hordes reduced us to beg- 
gary. Be content with the booty you have already ; and be 
not twice a barbarian, first stealing our property, and then, 
like a fiend, requiring us to reproduce and lay it at your 
feet. ” 

The noble indignation of the burgomaster excited nothing 
but mirth on the part of the Frenchman. He laughed. 

“Well, it makes no great difference, after all. Your lives 
will do quite as well as the ransom you cannot afford to pay 
for them. My soldiery like fire and blood and pretty women 
almost as well as they do gold, and I shall enjoy the spectacle 
from the castle- walls. As for you, burgomaster, you have 
something that I covet for my own use — your beautiful 
daughter.” 

“ My daughter ! ” shrieked Wengelin, defiantly, “ before she 
should be delivered to you, monster ! I would take her life as 
Yirginius took that of his well-beloved child ! ” 

The general said not a word. For a time the two men eyed 
each other like two enraged tigers ; but General Melac wasted 
no time in vain indignation. He signed to his guards, and 
ordered them to take away the prisoner, and retain him as a 
hostage until sunset. 

“ When our well-beloved citizens of Esslingen shall hear 
the report of the musketry that ends his life, they will know 
that the signal for pillage has been given. The execution will 
take place at sunset.” 

Then, addressing himself to the six remaining deputies : 
“ Go,” said he, “ and relate w T hat you have seen and heard to 
your fellow-citizens ; and tell them that my Frenchmen are 
skilful both with sabre and torch ; they have been practising 


THE JUDITH OF ESSLTNGEN. 


429 


for several weeks past in Heidelberg, Mannheim, and other 
German cities. Do not forget to communicate all this to the 
fair daughter of the burgomaster.” 

This time there was no outburst of grief from the people ; 
they felt that all hope was vain, and they were nerving 
themselves for martyrdom. Presently there was a sound of 
voices, and the fugitives from Wurtemberg and the Palati- 
nate were heard relating their frightful experience of the 
warfare of a monarch who styled himself “ Most Christian 
King.” 

One of them mounted the steps of the council-hall, and de- 
scribed the entrance of the French into his native town. The 
people were driven with bayonets from their beds into the 
snow, children were tossed into the flames ; old men were 
butchered like cattle ; maidens were torn from the arms of 
their parents, and given over to the soldiery ; and the narrator, 
who had escaped, had been for days without food — for weeks 
without covering or shelter ! 

As the man concluded this frightful picture of carnage, a 
voice from among the crowd was heard in clear, loud, ringing 
tones : 

“ There is rescue at hand — we must make use of it ! ” 

At the same moment, Marie felt a grasp upon her arm, and 
turning beheld herself in the custody of a tall, pale man, who 
continued to cry out : 

“ She can rescue us ! I saw the French general stroke 
her cheeks yesterday, and look at her with eyes of love. Did 
he not demand her of her father ? And were his last words 
not a message to her ? I hint that she might ransom us if she 
would ! ” 

u Ay, ay,” responded one of the crowd. “ Ay ! ” echoed 
another and another ; and now the chorus gathered strength, 
and swelled into a shout, that penetrated the walls of Esslin- 
gen Castle, and reached the ears of Marie’s unconscious 
father. 

Marie covered her face with her hands, and sank upon her 
knees. “ Oh, Caspar ! ” was the unspoken thought of her af- 
fectionate soul. 

“ Friends ! ” exclaimed her uncle, “ you are drunk with 


430 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


cowardly fright. Enow ye that ye ask of this maiden her own 
ruin for your lives ? ” 

But if Melac’s soldiery are set upon us,” replied a young 
woman in the throng ; “ we shall all be ruined — mothers, 
wives, and maidens. And is it not better,” continued she, rais- 
ing her voice, and addressing the mob, “ is it not better that 
one woman should suffer dishonor than a thousand ? ” 

“Marie Wengelin will have her father’s life to answer for, 
as well as the lives of her fellow-citizens,” cried another voice. 
“ It is her duty to sacrifice herself.” 

At this moment the loud, shrill tones of an affrighted voice 
were heard calling out, “ Marie ! Marie ! my child ! ” and the 
figure of Frau Wengelin, with outstretched arms, was now 
seen at the window, whence the mother and daughter had 
watched the return of the deputies. 

Marie would have responded to that pathetic appeal, but as 
she rose from her knees, and attempted to move, she was forced 
and held back by the crowd. They were lost to all sense of 
humanity for the one segregated being by whose immolation 
the safety of the aggregate might be effected. 

“ Have pity ! have pity ! ” cried the poor girl. “ Do you 
not hear my mother calling me ? Think of your own children, 
and hinder me not, I implore ye ! ” 

“We think of our children, and therefore you shall not 
go ! You shall sacrifice yourself for the suffering many ! ” 
And they lifted her back to the peristyle, where she stood 
alone, confronting the pitiless crowd that demanded her honor 
wherewith to buy their lives. What was the fate of the daugh- 
ter of Jephthah, compared to that which threatened poor 
Marie of Esslingen ? 

Suddenly a cloud seemed to pass over the sky, and the faces 
of her enemies were no longer distinct. Marie raise her arms 
wildly over her head, and screamed, for too well she under- 
stood the shadow that rested upon the market-place. The sun 
had sunk behind the heights of Esslingen, and one half hour 
remained ere her father lost his life. 

The crowd renewed their cries, entreaties, and threats. 
Some appealed to her patriotism, some to her filial love, some 
called her a murderess, — the meanest among the multitude at- 


THE JUDITH OF ESSLINGEN. 


431 


tempted to terrify Her — as if any doom could equal the horror 
of the one they were forcing upon an innocent, pure-hearted, 
and loving girl ! 

She raised her hand to obtain a hearing. 

“ You shall not perish if my prayers can save you ! I will 
go to our oppressor, ‘and try to move his heart to pity.” 

She heard neither their shouts of joy nor their thanks. 
She was hardly conscious of the blessings that were being 
poured on her head, the kisses that were imprinted on her 
rigid, clammy hands. She stood for a while, her teeth 
clinched, her eyes distended, her figure dilated to its utmost ; 
then suddenly she shivered, thrust away the women that were 
clustering about her, and began her via crucis. 

At the gate of the city she encountered the pastor that had 
baptized and received her into the church. He had placed 
himself there that he might pour what consolation he could 
into that bruised and bleeding heart. The old man laid his 
hand upon her golden curls, and she fell at his feet. The mul- 
titude that had followed their victim simultaneously bent the 
knee and bowed their heads ; for, although they were too far 
to overhear his words, they knew that the pastor was blessing 
her. 

“ As Abraham blessed Isaac, and as the Israelites blessed 
Judith, so do I bless thee, thou deliverer of thy people ! May 
God inspire thy tongue, and so soften the heart of the tyrant, 
that he may hearken to thy prayers, and, looking upon thy 
pure and virgin brow, he may respect that honor which is 
dearer to woman than life. God bless thee, Marie ! God bless 
thee ! ” He bowed his head close to her ear. “ Marie you are 
a Christian. Swear to me that you will not stain your hands 
with blood.” 

Marie’s eyes flashed fire. “ Did not the Israelite kill Holo- 
fernes ? ” 

‘‘Yes, my child; but Israel’s heroine was called Judith, 
and ours bears the blessed name of Mary ! ‘Vengeance is 
mine, saith the Lord ; I will repay.’” 

Marie’s eye was still unsubdued, and she looked more like 
Judith than like Mary. The old pastor was agitated and 
alarmed. 


432 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Marie, Marie, you are in the hands of God. Come weal, 
come wo, can you not trust yourself to Him ? See, the sun 
goes lower and lower ; but before I release your hand you must 
swear that it shall shed no blood.” 

Alas ! Yes — the sun was rapidly sinking, and she must has- 
ten, or her father’s life would be lost. “ I promise,” said she, 
“ and now, father, pray — pray for — ” 

She could say no more ; but rising she went alone up the 
steps that led to Esslingen Castle. The people, still on their 
knees, followed her lithe figure till it was hidden for a time 
by the fir-trees that grew along the heights ; then, as she 
emerged again and appeared at the hill-top, the multitude gave 
vent to their feelings in prayer. 

Higher and higher she mounted, until they saw that she 
had reached the gates, and disappeared. 


CHAPTER VII. 

HER RETURN. 

Hours went by and darkness set in. It was a cold night 
in March ; the wind howled in fitful gusts along the streets, 
but the people could not disperse. They sat shivering to- 
gether in the market-place ; for how was it possible for sleep 
to visit their eyes, when every moment might hurl destruc- 
tion upon their heads. The old priest went from one to an- 
other, encouraging the desponding, and comforting the afflict- 
ed ; praying with the mothers, and covering their shivering 
children, who, stretched at the feet of their parents, or resting 
within their arms, were the only ones there to whom sleep 
brought oblivion of sorrow. 

At last that fearful night of suspense went by. A rosy 
flush tinged the eastern sky, it deepened to gold, and the sun 
rose. The people raised a hymn of thanksgiving, and, as they 
were rising from their devotions, the roll of a drum was heard, 
and a file of soldiers were seen issuing from the castle-gates. 
They came nearer and nearer, until they reached the city ; 


HER RETURN. 


433 


but by the time they had neared the market-place, not a hu- 
man being was there to confront them : the people had all fled 
to their houses. 

They stopped before the residence of the burgomaster, and 
from an opening made in the ranks there issued two persons ; 
the one a man, the other a woman. The latter was veiled, 
and her head rested languidly upon the shoulders of her com- 
panion. 

A group of French officers escorted them to the door, where 
they took off their hats, and, bowing low, retired. The father 
and daughter were lost to view, the drum beat anew, and the 
men, without exchanging a word with the inhabitants, re- 
turned to their quarters at Esslingen Castle. 

The people were no sooner reassured as to the intentions of 
the soldiers, than they poured in streams from their homes, 
and took their way to the burgomaster’s house. Congratula- 
tions were exchanged between friends, parents embraced their 
children, husbands pressed their wives to their bosoms ; every 
heart overflowed with gratitude to Marie, every voice was lift- 
ed in her praise. 

But she ! Scarcely enduring her mother’s caresses, she 
had torn herself from that mother’s embrace, and, hastening 
away to the solitude of her own room, had bolted herself 
within. 

Two hours went by, and the house of the burgomaster 
could scarcely contain the friends that flocked thither to wel- 
come his daughter. Without, a band of music was playing 
martial airs, while within, halls, parlors, and staircases, were 
crowded with magistrates in their robes of office, churchmen 
in their clerical gowns, and women and maidens in gay and 
festive apparel. 

A deputation of citizens now requested to be permitted to 
pay homage to the heroine that had rescued her townsmen 
from death ; and Frau Wengelin ventured to knock at the 
door of her daughter’s chamber. She was so earnest in her 
pleadings, that at last the bolt was withdrawn, and Marie, with 
bloodshot eyes, and mouth convulsed, appeared upon the 
threshold. 

“ Come,, my child,” said the poor mother, “ the citizens will 


434 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


not leave the house until they have seen you.” And compel- 
ling her forward, Frau Wengelin, with some difficulty, brought 
her as far as the foot of the staircase. 

She was greeted with loud and repeated cheerings, which 
scarcely appeared to reach her ear, while her eyes, fixed upon 
the throng before her, seemed to ask what meant this tur- 
moil. 

Suddenly she heard her name whispered, and, with a fear- 
ful shriek, she recoiled from the outstretched hand of a 
young man, who had just rushed forward to clasp her in his 
arms. 

“ What ails my Marie on this festive day, where all is joy 
around ? ” said he. “ I have just this moment arrived, to say 
that help is nigh, my countrymen,” added he, addressing the 
crowd. “ Our army is at hand, and the French shall suffer 
for their deeds of violence in Germany. But what means this 
large and gay assemblage ? And who are these ? ” asked he, 
as a group of young maidens came forward with a crown of 
laurel, and some of the principal burgomasters, leading the be- 
wildered Marie to a throne decked with flowers, seated her on 
a chair under its green and fragrant canopy. 

No answer was made to his inquiry, for one of the deputies 
began an address, in which Marie was hailed as the heroine 
that had rescued her fellow-citizens from death, and her native 
place from destruction. Her portrait was to grace the council- 
hall of Esslingen, and such honors as it lay in the power of 
its magistrates to confer, were to be hers forever. 

At this moment Marie rose suddenly from her seat, gasped 
for breath, and fell as suddenly back, for the first time lifting 
her face, which, as she lay against the wall of flowers that 
concealed her chair, was marble-white, and strangely con- 
vulsed. 

Her mother started forward, find Caspar, catching her in 
his arms, covered her face w T ith kisses. 

“ What ails thee, my beloved ? Oh, do not look so wildly 
at thy Caspar ! Marie, my own one, what is it ? ” 

“ It is over,” murmured she, almost inaudibly. 

“What is over?” cried the frightened mother, bending 
over her child’s writhing form. 


HER RETURN. 


435 


“ Life ! ” sighed the girl, and her eyes closed wearily. 

The frightful stillness was unbroken by a sound. Frau 
Wengelin suppressed her sobs, that she might gaze upon her 
dying child ; while her father stood by, the picture of dumb 
despair. Caspar held her to his heart, dimly apprehending 
the fearful tragedy of the hour, and the guests pressed noise- 
lessly around, vainly striving to catch a glimpse of their vic- 
tim’s face. 

The crowd opened to allow passage to the priest, who, ap- 
proaching the throne, came and knelt beside Caspar. 

“ Marie,” said he, in a loud, distinct voice, that reached the 
portals of her soul, and aroused her departing senses. 

Marie slowly opened her eyes, and gazed upon the speaker. 
“ I have kept my oath,” said she, hoarsely. “ No blood was 
shed, but I have returned to die.” 

“ Wherefore to die ? ” cried several voices at once. 

“ Ask my Caspar,” murmured she, looking fondly into the 
face of her betrothed, and, with her eyes fixed upon his, Marie’s 
soul took its flight to heaven. 


BOOK VII. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ISLAND OF BLISS. 

They were together in the little pavilion of the garden at 
Schonbrunn. With clasped hands, and eyes that sparkled 
with happiness, they sat in that sweet silence which to lovers 
is more eloquent than words. The door that led to the park 
was open, and the balmy breath of May wafted toward them 
the perfume of the flowers and trees without. 

The park, too, was undisturbed by a sound. The laborers 
had gone to their mid-day meal, and the birds had hidden 
themselves away from the sunbeams. The great heart of 
Nature was pulsating with a joy like that of the lovers, too 
great for utterance. There was something in the appearance 
of this youthful pair which would have convinced a looker-on 
that there was a mystery of some sort surrounding the ro- 
mance of their love. For the one was in the garb of a nun, 
her head concealed by a coif, and her person enveloped in a 
long white veil ; while the other was attired in a splendid 
Spanish dress. Over it hung a heavy gold chain, to which 
was attached the order of the Golden Fleece. His soft black 
hair lay on a forehead white as snow, and made a pleasant 
contrast with a face which was pale, not with sickness or suf- 
fering, but with that suppressed sensibility which leaves the 
cheek colorless because its fires are concentrated within the 
heart. No ! It was not for sorrow that Eugene of Savoy was 
pale ; it was from excess of joy ; for she was at his side, and 
the world had nothing more to bestow ! 

So thought he. as, with caressing hand, he lifted her long 
veil from her shoulders and threw it behind, in imitation of 
the drapery that hangs around Raphael’s Madonnas. 

( 436 ) 


THE ISLAND OF BLISS. 


437 


“ Oh, how I love you, Sister Angelica ! ” murmured he ; 
u and, in my feverish visions, how often I have mistaken that 
white veil for the snowy sail of a ship of which I used to 
dream in my delirium — a ship that was bearing me onward to 
an island of bliss, where my Laura stood with outstretched 
arms, and welcomed me home ! But what were imagination’s 
brightest picturings to the reality of the deep joy that flooded 
my being, when the veil was flung back, and my love stood 
revealed ! Oh, Laura — my life will be all too short to reward 
you for your fidelity.” 

“ You love me, Eugene, and therein is my unspeakable re- 
ward.” 

“ And will you never leave me, dearest ? ” 

She laid her small hand upon his head, smoothed his hair 
fondly, and gazed passionately into his eyes. You ask, as if 
you required an answer,” said she, in tones that were tremu- 
lous with love. 

“ I do require an answer, for I am continually fearing that 
this is a blissful dream ; and that some morn I shall awake 
to find thee flown, and Angelica the nun all that is left of 
thee ! When thou art absent from my sight, I shiver with 
dread lest I should see thee never more.” 

She laughed, and oh, how musical was her laugh ! “ Is 
this the hero of Belgrade, that talks of shivering with 
dread ? ” 

“ Yes ; and when he thinks that he might lose you, he is no 
hero, but a poor coward. And in truth, my Laura, I am tired 
of a soldier’s life — it is too exciting for my health ; and I am 
tired of the world and its frivolities, too. If you love me as I 
do you, you will be happy in our mutual love, without other 
companionship than mine.” 

“ Over castle-roof, and through the dangerous descent of 
that castle-chimney, came I to meet you, Eugene ; how then 
should I pine for other companionship ?” 

“ When I think how mysterious was your escape, I dread 
lest you should disappear from me as mysteriously. The very 
thought presses on my brain like the first horrid symptoms of 
madness ; then my body begins to suffer, my wounds seem to 
open, and bleed anew. Laura, prove to me your love by going 


438 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


with me into solitude. I am tired of being a courtier, and 
have asked the emperor for my discharge.” 

“ Did he grant it, Eugene ? ” asked she, fixing her large, 
penetrating eyes upon his, with an earnestness that forbade 
him to avoid her glance. 

“ He will grant it to-morrow. To-morrow for the last time, 
I go to the imperial palace as a field-marshal ; I shall return 
thence nobody but Eugene of Savoy, your lover, who lives but 
to serve you, and repay if he can all that he owes to your 
courageous and heroic affection.” 

“ The emperor has refused,” replied Laura. “ He gave you 
time for reflection,” added she, looking intently again into her 
lover’s eyes. 

“ Perhaps he may have wished me to reflect,” replied he, 
smiling, and trying to endure her scrutiny. “ But my resolve 
is not to be shaken. I shall retire to the estate presented me 
by the emperor in Hungary, there to live with my darling on 
an island of bliss, upheaved so far above the tempestuous 
ocean of the world’s vicissitudes, that no lashing of its waves 
will ever reach our home. Will you go with me into this isl- 
and, where you shall not fear the world’s censorious comments 
on our reunion — where you may throw aside that false vestal 
garb, and be my own untrammelled bride ? ” 

Laura said nothing ; a deep glow suffused her cheeks, 
and her eyes filled with tears. Gliding from her seat 
to her knees, she took her lover’s hand and covered it with 
kisses. 

“ Laura ! ” exclaimed he, “ what can this signify ?” 

Laura wept on for a time in silence ; then, when she had 
recovered herself sufficiently to speak, she replied : 

“It signifies that I bow down before the magnanimity of 
him who, to shield me from the world’s contumely, would re- 
linquish that which he holds most dear on earth, his hopes of 
glory.” 

“ Laura, give me an answer to my prayer. Will you go 
with me to my estates in Hungary ? ” 

Laura smiled, but said nothing. 

“ Answer me, Laura, answer me, my own love.” 

“ The emperor gave you a day to reflect upon your sudden 


THE ISLAND OF BLISS. 439 

desire for retirement. Give me but one hour for my deci- 
sion.” 

“ You hesitate ! ” 

“ Only one hour, Eugene ; but during that hour I must be 
alone with my Maker. Await me here.” 

Drawing the veil over her face, Laura bounded lightly 
down the pavilion steps, and walked hurriedly toward the pal- 
ace. Eugene looked after her with eyes that beamed with love 
ineffable, sighing as he did so : “ She is worthy of the sacri- 
fice ; I owe it to her.” 

The hour seemed interminable. At first, he fixed his eyes 
upon the walk by which she must return ; then he turned 
away, that he might wait until he heard her dear voice. 

At last a light step approached the pavilion ; he heard it 
coming up the steps, and a beloved voice spoke : 

u The Marchioness de Bonaletta.” 

Eugene turned, and there, instead of Sister Angelica, stood 
his beautiful Laura in rich attire — so beautiful that he thought 
he had never sufficiently admired her before. 

He started forward, and, dropping on one knee, took her 
little hand, and covered it with kisses. Then, rising, he flung 
his arm around her waist, and drew her to a seat. 

“ Now read me the riddle,” said he. 

“ My beloved, do you think me so blind as not to have com- 
prehended the immeasurable sacrifice you would have made 
to my womanly pride ? Oh, how I thank you, my own, peer- 
less Eugene ! But I will not accept it. I may not bear your 
name, but God knows that I am your wife, as Eve was the 
spouse of Adam ; and it is for me to show that our bond is 
holy, by enduring courageously the stigma of being considered 
as your mistress. Enough for me to feel that to you I shall 
be an honored and beloved wife, incapable of sharing your 
fame, but oh, how proud of my hero ! Gird on your sword, 
my Eugene, and fulfil your glorious destiny. Go once more 
into the world, and let me share your fate.” 

“ Let her share my fate ! She asks me to let her share my 
fate,” cried Eugene, pressing her to his heart. And God and 
Nature blessed the union that man refused to acknowledge. 


440 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE FRENCH IN SPEIER. 

General Melac and his murderous hordes were in the old 
city of Speier, squandering the goods and money of which 
they had robbed the unfortunate inhabitants. Scarcely two 
months had elapsed since the departure of the French from 
Esslingen, and in that short interval they had laid more than 
one hundred towns in ashes. 

But Melac was insatiable ; his eyes feasted on the scarlet 
hue of German blood, his ears were ravished with the sounds 
of German groans and sighs ; and oftentimes, when the poor 
hunted fugitives were flying from his presence, he made a 
pastime of their misery for himself, by aiming at them with 
his own musket, to see how many he could bring down before 
they passed out of sight. 

He was holding a council of war with his generals ; but, 
While he made merry over his cruelties of the day before, and 
projected others for the morrow, his officers frowned and 
averted their eyes. 

His thick, sensual lips expanded with a hideous smile. “ It 
would seem that my orders are not agreeable,” said he. 
“ Pray, gentlemen, am I so unlucky as to have earned your 
disapproval ? ” 

There was no answer to this inquiry, but neither was there 
any change in the aspect of the officers. 

“General Feuquiere,” cried Melac, “you are not usually 
reticent ; pray, let us hear your opinion of my mode of war- 
fare.” 

“ I cannot approve of cruelty,” replied Feuquiere, bluntly. 
“ Our men act much less like the brave soldiers of a Chris- 
tian king, than like demons that have been let loose from 
hell.” 

“ You do not flatter us,” replied Melac. “ And I am curious 
to know whether anybody else here present shares your opin- 
ion.” 

“ We are all of one mind,” was the unanimous reply. 


THE FRENCH IN SPEIER. 


441 


“We are assassins and incendiaries, but we have never 
yet fought a battle like men,” resumed De Feuquiere. 

“ No,” added Montclas. “We have longed in vain for hon- 
orable warfare ; for a fair combat before the light of heaven, 
face to face with men armed like ourselves ; and we are sick 
at heart of midnight torches and midnight murders.” 

“ No doubt ; you are a sentimental personage, I hear : one 
who shed tears when the order was given to sack Mann- 
heim.” 

“I am not ashamed of those tears,” returned Montclas. 
“ For three months these much enduring people have exerted 
themselves to do our bidding, treating us like guests who had 
come to them as foes. And when, in return for their kind- 
ness, our soldiery were ordered to sack their beautiful city, I 
wept while I was forced to obey the inhuman command of my 
superior officer. May Almighty God not hold me responsible 
as a creature for what I have been forced to do as a sol- 
dier ! ” 

“You can justify yourself by referring the Almighty to 
me, as I shall certainly justify myself by referring Him to 
Monsieur Louvois. It is true that I do not weep when I cany 
out his orders ; but you may judge for yourselves whether I 
transcend them. — General Montclas, be so good as to read 
aloud this dispatch.” 

General Montclas took the paper, and read in an audible 
voice : 

“ ‘ It is now two weeks since I have seen a courier from the 
army. What are you about that I receive no more accounts 
of the destruction of German cities wherewith to entertain the 
idle hours of his majesty ? You have been ordered to devas- 
tate the entire German frontier. You began bravely, but you 
are not keeping the promise of your opening. . The Germans 
are full of sentiment, and you must wound them through 
their affections and associations. Burn their houses, sack their 
fine churches, deface and destroy their monuments and public 
buildings. When next you write, let me hear that Speier 
with its magnificent cathedral is a thing of the past ; and be 
expeditious, that Worms and Trier may share the same fate. 

‘Louvois.’” 


29 


442 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“You see, then,” observed Melac, “that I do but obey or- 
ders. 

“ That may be,” sighed De Feuquiere, “ but all Europe will 
rise in one indignant protest against our inhumanity.” 

“ Let them protest ; we will have raised such a barrier of 
desolation between themselves and France, that we can afford 
to laugh at their indignation. I for my part approve of the 
method of warfare traced out for us by the minister of war, 
and I shall carry it out from Basle to Coblentz. The time we 
allowed to the people of Speier for reflection, expires to-day. 
To horse, then ! The burgomasters are waiting for us in the 
market-place by the cathedral.” 

Yes ! The burghers, the clergy, the women, and the chil- 
dren, were on their knees in the market-place, crying for mercy. 
Melac, laughing at their wretchedness, spurred his horse on- 
ward, and plunged into their midst, scattering them right and 
left like a flock of frightened sheep ; and the clang of his 
horse’s hoofs on the stone pavement sounded to his unhappy 
victims like the riveting of nails in the great coffin wherein 
their beautiful city was shortly to be buried. 

But they were not noisy in their grief. Here and there 
might be heard a slight sob, and, with this exception, there was 
silence in that thronged market-place. 

Suddenly the great bell of the cathedral began to toll, and 
after it all the bells in Speier. General Melac slackened his 
pace, and rode deliberately along the market-place, as if to 
give that weeping multitude the opportunity of looking upon 
his cruel face, and reading there that from him no mercy was 
to be expected. 

The bells ceased, and their tones were yet trembling on the 
air, when the women and children lifted up their voices and 
began to chant : “ In my trouble I called on the Lord ! ” 

The strain was taken up by the musicians who stood at the 
open windows of the council-hall, and now the burghers, the 
magistrates, and the clergy, joined in the holy song. The 
French uncovered their heads and listened reverentially, while 
many an eye was dimmed with tears, and many a heart bled 
for the fate of those whom they could not rescue. 

Every man there felt the influence of the blessed words, 




THE FRENCH IN SPEIER. 


443 


except one. General Melac was neither awed nor touched ; 
his pale eye was as cold, his sardonic mouth as cruel as ever. 

u He is perfectly hardened,” murmured a monk, who was 
leaning against one of the columns of the cathedral. This 
monk was a young man, of tall, muscular build. His wide 
shoulders and fine, erect figure, seemed much more suitable to 
a soldier than to a brother of the order of mercy. Even his 
sun-burnt face had a proud, martial look ; and as his dark, 
glowing eyes rested on Melac, they kindled with a glance that 
was not very expressive of brotherly love. 

“ He is without pity,” thought he, “ and perhaps ’tis well ; 
for I might have been touched to grant him a death more 
merciful. ” 

He moved away that he might distinguish the words that 
were now being poured forth from the quivering lips of the 
white-haired prebendary of the cathedral ; but the poor old 
priest’s voice was tremulous with tears, and the monk could 
not hear. He then made a passage for himself through the 
crowd and approached General Melac. The prebendary had 
ceased to speak, and there was a solemn stillness in the mar- 
ket-place, for every sigh was hushed to catch the words that 
were to follow. 

Melac looked around that he might see how many thousand 
human beings were acknowledging his power, then he drew 
in his rein and smiled — that deadly smile ! 

“ My orders must be carried out,” said he, in a loud and dis- 
tinct voice. “ Speier must be razed to the ground, and I am 
sorry that its inhabitants were unwilling to profit by the per- 
mission I gave them to emigrate to France. They would 
have been kindly received there.” 

“We hope for mercy,” was the reply of the prebendary. 
“ Oh, general, let us not hope in vain ! ” 

“ No mercy shall be given you,” said Melac, who, turning 
to General Montclas, remarked, “ What an advantage I have 
over you ! I know their language, and can understand all 
their expressions of grief ! It is a comic litany ! ” 

“ Demon, I will repay thee ! ” muttered the monk. And, 
coming close to the general’s horse, he laid his hand upon the 
rein. 


444 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“What do you mean, sirrah ? ” cried Melac. “Withdraw 
your hand.” 

“ Your excellency,” replied the man in pure French, “ allow 
me to station myself at your horse’s head, for you may need 
my help to-day.” 

“ Your help ? Wherefore ? ” 

“The work in which you are engaged is apt to provoke 
personal hostility. I dreamed last night that I saw you wel- 
tering in your blood, enveloped in flames. I am superstitious 
— very ; particularly as regards dreams, and I left the hospital 
where I was engaged in nursing the sick, on purpose to pro- 
tect your excellency from secret foes.” 

“ Protect me ! Who do you suppose would he so bold as to 
attack me ? Not this whining multitude around us.” 

“Nobody knows to what acts despair may drive the meek- 
est of men,” was the monk’s reply. 

“ Very well ; I believe you are right,” said Melac, a little 
disturbed. “ Station yourself at my rein, then.” 

At that moment there was a general wail, and many a 
voice was lifted up in one last effort to soften the heart of their 
persecutor. 

“ Speier must be destroyed,” was his answer, “ but to show 
you the extent of my clemency, I will now announce to you 
that without the gates are four hundred forage-wagons, which 
I have provided for the removal of your valuables (if you 
have any) to any point you may select within the boundaries 
of France. Those who prefer to remain, are allowed to de- 
posit their effects in the cathedral, and to guard them in per- 
son. The temple of Almighty God is sacred, and the hand of 
man shall not profane its sanctity by deeds of violence. Take 
your choice of the cathedral or the army-wagons : I give you 
four hours’ grace. If, after that time, I find a German on the 
streets, man, woman, or child, the offender shall be scourged 
or put to the sword.” 

In a few moments the market-place was empty, an.d the 
people, exhausted and cowed though they were, by two months 
of oppression, had flown to take advantage of this last act of 
grace. 

“Now, my excellent brother,” said Melac to the monk, 


THE FRENCH IN SPEIER. 


445 


“ you see that I am quite safe, and can dispense with your pro- 
tection.” 

“ The day is not yet at an end,” said the monk, solemnly. 

“ You are right.” cried the butcher, “ it has scarcely begun ; 
but by and-by we shall see a comedy that will raise your spirits 
for a month to come. The actors thereof are to be the people 
of Speier, and the entertainment will close with an exhibition 
of fireworks on a magnificent scale. Send me two ordnance 
officers ! ” cried he to his staff. 

Two lancers approached and saluted their commander. 

“ Let two companies of infantry occupy the market-place,” 
said Melac. “ Let four cannon be stationed at the entrances 
of the four streets leading to the cathedral. For four hours 
the people shall be allowed to enter with their chattels. At 
the end of this truce, two more companies of infantry shall be 
ordered hither, one of which shall surround the cathedral, the 
other march inside. A detachment of miners must encompass 
the columns and cornice of the roof with combustibles ; hut 
use no powder, for that might endanger ourselves. There 
are straw, hemp, pitch, tar, and sulphur enough in the town to 
make the grandest show since Rome was burned. The in- 
fantry that enter the church, will massacre the people, and if 
they are dexterous the booty is theirs ; but they must do their 
work swiftly, or there will be no time to save anything, for I 
intend that the entire building shall be fired at once. 

The monk started, grasped the mane of the horse with a 
movement that caused him to shy, and his rider to cry out in 
great irritation : 

“ What are you doing, fool ? ” 

“ Pardon, your excellency, my foot was under your horse’s 
hoof, and I could not help catching at his mane.” 

“ Keep farther away, then ; I do not believe in dreams. — 
Away ! ” cried he, to the lancers, who, horror-stricken but 
powerless to refuse, went on their diabolical mission. 

“ And now,” continued Melac, “ we will ride to the gates to 
see what sort of entertainment our hospitable hosts of Speier 
are preparing for us there.” 

He galloped off with such swiftness that his guardian-angel 
was left behind. But he followed as fast as he could ; when- 


446 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ever he met a man hastening with his goods to the cathe- 
dral, bidding him “Beware !” and passing on. Some heeded 
the warning, others did not. They were so paralyzed by de- 
spair that the monk’s words conveyed no meaning to their 
minds, and they went humbly on to their destruction. 

He meanwhile hurried to the gates through which the 
weeping crowds were hearing, each one, what he valued most 
on earth. There were women, scarcely able to totter, whose 
dearest burdens were their own helpless children ; there were 
men carrying sickly wives or decrepit mothers ; there were 
others so loaded down with the few worldly goods that the 
odious Frenchman had left them, that their backs were almost 
bent in two, and they were scarcely able to drag themselves 
along ! The nearer the gates, the denser the throng, many of 
whom were fainting with misery and exhaustion ; but many 
also to whom despair lent strength. 

Melac was there, enjoying the scene ; sometimes glancing 
toward the gates, sometimes toward the wagons which, for 
miles around, covered the extensive plain outside of the city. 
The poor fainting wretches that reached them let their burdens 
drop, and would have made an effort to follow them, but they, 
were told that no one would be allowed to enter the wagons 
until all had been filled with their wares. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE TREASURE. 

For three hours the monk strove in vain to reach the gate ; 
but the time of grace was fast approaching its close, and now, 
the press becoming less, he sped along as if he had been flying 
for life, until he came panting, almost breathless, to the spot 
where the French general, surrounded by his staff, was sitting 
on his horse, enjoying himself immensely. 

“Ah !” said he, “our pious brother here ! Well — you see 
that I am alive.” 

“ Yes, and I am glad to know it,” replied the monk, resum- 
ing his place at the bridle. 


THE TREASURE. 


447 


Melac turned to one of his adjutants : “ Give orders to the 
drivers to go on, and let the soldiers cut down every man that 
attempts to mount the wagons or withdraw his effects. To 
get the honey, we must kill the bees. When they are all dead, 
the men can divide the spoils.” * 

“ As soon as the sport is over,” continued he, to another ad- 
jutant, “ I will repair, with my staff, to the council-hall, there 
to see the illumination. Ride on, and tell the superin- 
tendent that, when he sees my handkerchief waving from 
the great window in the second story, he must apply his 
matches.” 

So saying, Melac put spurs to his horse, and, followed by 
his staff, approached the wagons, and gave a signal with his 
sword. 

The whole train was set in motion, and the horses were 
urged to the top of tjieir speed. 

The unhappy victims of this demoniac stratagem gave one 
simultaneous shout of indignation. Those nearest the wagons 
strove to clutch at them with their hands. Some held on even 
to the wheels, some mounted the horses, some snatched the 
reins. But sharp swords were near ; and, at the word of com- 
mand, every outstretched arm was hacked off, and fell, sev- 
ered, to the ground. 

A struggle now began between the soldiery and the com- 
panions of those who had been so cruelly mutilated. They 
were unarmed, but they had the strength of brutes at bay ; 
and by-and-by many a sword had been snatched from their 
assassins, and many a Frenchman had bitten the dust. General 
Melac was so interested in a fight between two soldiers and two 
women whose children had been driven off in the wagons, that, 
before he was aware of his danger, a sword was uplifted over 
his head, and a frenzied face was almost thrust into his own. 
At this moment his reins were seized, his horse was forced 
back, and the stout arm of the monk had wrested the sabre 
from the enraged German, who fell, pierced by a buRet from 
the holster of an officer close by. 

“ Was it you, pious brother, that so opportunely backed my 
steed ? ” inquired Melac. 

* Historical.— See Zimmermann, “ History of Wurtemberg,” vol. ii. 


448 PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 

The monk bowed, and the general saw that his forehead 
was bloody. 

“ Are you wounded ? ” 

“ Yes, general ; I received the stroke that was intended for 
you, but parried it, and the blow was slight.” 

“lama thousand times indebted to you for the service you 
have rendered me, and hope that you will not leave me a 
second time without your sheltering presence.— Ho ! a horse 
there for the Bernardine monk ! ” 

No sooner were Melac’s commands uttered than they were 
obeyed, for he that tarried when the tyrant spoke was sure to 
come to grief. The monk swung himself into the saddle with 
the agility of a trooper, and, although the horse reared and 
plunged, he never swerved from his seat. 

“Verily you are a curious specimen of a monk,” laughed 
Melac. “ I never saw a brother so much to my taste before. 
Come, follow me to the market-place, and you shall see my 
skill in pyrotechnics. If I had but Nero’s field <5f operations, 
I could rival his burning of Rome. Happy Nero, that could 
destroy a Rome ! ” 

“Do you, also, envy Nero his sudden death?” asked the 
monk. 

“ Why, yes ; though I would like to put off the evil day as 
far as may be, I hope to die a sudden and painless death.” 

“ Sudden and painless death,” muttered the monk, between 
his teeth. “ You allude to death on the field of battle ? ” 

“ Ay, that do I ; it is the only end befitting a soldier. See 
— we are at the gates. The way is obstructed by corpses,” 
continued he, urging his horse over a heap of dead that lay in 
the streets. “ Luckily, they will not have to be buried ; they 
shall have a funeral pile, like that of the ancients.” 

“ Is the entire city to be destroyed ? ” asked the monk. 

“ Yes, the whole city, from one end to the other ; and these 
tottering old buildings will make a brave blaze.” 

“ A brave blaze,” echoed the monk, raising his mournful 
eyes to the long rows of houses that so lately were the abodes 
of many a happy family, were as empty as open graves. They 
continued their way along the silent streets— silent even 
around the cathedral, where, early in the morning, so many 


THE TREASURE. 449 

thousand supplicants had knelt' before God and man for 
mercy, but knelt in vain. 

Some few were within the cathedral walls, some were ly- 
ing, their ghastly faces upturned to heaven, and those who 
had survived were wandering across their blasted fields, bereft 
of kindred and home, houseless, hungry, and almost naked. 

General Melac glanced at the cathedral porch. That, too, 
was empty and still. 

“ I wonder whether pur men have done their work over 
there ? ” said he. “I must go and see.” 

Then dismounting, and flinging his bridle to his equerry, 
he called upon the monk to follow him. The staff also dis- 
mounted, and an officer advanced to receive orders. 

“ Gentlemen, betake yourselves to the hall of council, and 
await my return at the great window there, opposite.” 

The staff obeyed, and the general, followed by his preserver, 
ascended the steps that led to the cathedral. 

“Your excellency,” whispered the monk, coming very 
close, “ before we enter, will you allow me to say a word to 
you ? ” 

“ I should think you had had opportunity enough to-day to 
say what you wish.” 

“Not in private, general. Until now we have had lis- 
teners. ” 

“Well, is it anything of moment you desire to communi- 
cate ? ” 

“ Something of great importance.” 

“Speak on, and be quick, for time presses.” 

“ Your excellency is resolved to burn down the cathedral ?” 

“ Have I not told you that I would ? ” replied Melac, with a 
frown. “ Nothing in heaven or on earth shall save it.” 

“ Then,” said the monk with a deep sigh, “ for the sake of 
our brotherhood, I must violate the sanctity of the confes- 
sional. But you must swear to preserve my secret, otherwise 
you shall not hear it.” 

“ A secret of the confessional ! How can it concern 
me ? ” 

“ You shall hear. It relates to the concealment of two mil- 
lions’ worth of gold and precious stones.” 


450 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The covetous eyes of Melac glittered, and the blood mounted 
to his brow. “ Two millions ! ” gasped he. 

“ One for you and one for our brotherhood. Do you swear 
to keep the secret ? ” 

u Most unquestionably."’ 

“ And also swear that no one but ourselves shall know the 
place of its concealment ? ” 

“ I swear, most willingly, for I do not intend to divide my 
share of the booty with anybody living. How soon do you 
expect to come in possession of it ? ’’ 

“Now — at this very hour.” 

Melac drew back, and eyed the monk suspiciously. “ How ! 
These lying wretches had two millions of treasure, and not one 
of them would yield it up ? ” 

“ General, the people of Speier have nothing — nothing. 
Nobody knew of it save the bishop, who died day before 
yesterday, and the sacristan, who died to-day. You re- 
member that I was absent from your side during two hours 
to-day ?” 

Melac nodded, and the monk went on : “ Those two hours 
I spent by the dying-bed of this sacristan, the only depositary 
of the secret. He was wounded among the rest, was conveyed 
to a neighboring house, and there I received his last confes- 
sions. All the treasures of the cathedral— its gold, silver, and 
jewels — were, at the approach of the French army, conveyed 
to a place in the tower, which place the sacristan designated so 
plainly, that I can find it without difficulty.” 

“ But what has induced you to share it with me ? ” asked 
Melac, with a glance of mistrust. 

“ Imperative necessity, general. I cannot obtain it without 
your protection. You have given orders that no man shall 
be suffered to escape from the cathedral to-day, and, unless 
you go with me, the treasure must be given up to the flames. 
Certainly, if I could have gotten it without assistance, it 
would have been my duty to give it over entire into the hands 
of the brotherhood. But if you help me, I will divide it with 
you. It lies in the tower of the cathedral, close by the bel- 
fry.” 

“ Come, then, come ; show me the way.” 


CASPAR’S VENGEANCE. 


451 


They entered the massive doors. The sentry saluted the 
general, and they passed on. 

“ Let nothing more be done until I return,” said Melac 
to the sentry. “ I wish to go over the old building before we 
consign it to the flames. ” 


CHAPTER IV. 

CASPAR’S VENGEANCE. 

Deep silence reigned within the walls of the holy temple, 
broken occasionally by an expiring sigh, or the faint sound of 
the death-rattle. For the French soldiery had done their 
work. The poor wretches that had been ensnared into seeking 
refuge there, had all been murdered, and their possessions re- 
moved to a place of safety. One hour earlier, the vaults of the 
house of God had rung with shrieks and groans, but the vic- 
tims were now dying or dead. 

General Melac went among the prostrate bodies, looking 
here and there behind the pillars, to see whether any thing of 
value had been overlooked by his subordinates. The monk 
meanwhile bent over the prostrate forms that lay in hundreds 
upon the marble pavement, and so absorbed was he in sooth- 
ing their last moments, that he almost started as the rough 
voice of General Melac reached him from the opposite end of 
the nave. 

‘‘Come, come,” cried he, in thundering tones. “ Enough of 
useless sentimentality ! ” 

Without a word the monk rose, and, pointing to the grand 
altar, the general entered the chancel, and followed his con- 
ductor to a small door cut in the wall. This the monk opened, 
and, stepping back, signed to Melac to advance. 

“ Does this winding-stair lead to the tower ? ” asked the 
latter. 

“ Yes, general, and as there is but one way to reach it, I re- 
sume my proper place, and follow you, as in duty bound.” 

Melac began to ascend the stairs, the monk coming behind 


452 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


him, with an aspect the very opposite of that he had endeav- 
ored to maintain all day. His stooping shoulders were flung 
back, his head was erect, and in his eyes there sat a threaten- 
ing devil, which, if Melac could have seen it, would have made 
his heart grow chill with apprehension. But Melac, too, was 
no longer the same. Up to this moment he had assumed an 
appearance of friendliness toward his companion. But now 
his eye flashed, and his hand clutched his sword, while deep 
in his heart flowed a current of treachery, which, translated 
into words ran thus : 

“ I do not see why he should have any part in this treasure. 
As soon as he has pointed out the spot, I will catch him in my 
arms and hurl him down into the body of the church. By 
Heaven ! the life of one miserable monk never was worth a 
million of treasure ! ” 

Did the monk suspect what was passing within the mind of 
the general ? Perhaps he did ; for well he knew that he was 
capable of any amount of atrocity. 

On they went, sometimes stumbling in the dark, sometimes 
emerging into the light, until at last they reached the topmost 
step where Melac halted to breathe. 

“ Are we almost there ? ” asked he. 

“Almost there,” echoed the monk, while with a swift 
movement of his hand he drew from under his cassock two 
long, stout thongs of hide. 

“ What are you doing there .? ” asked Melac. 

“ I am making ready my lasso,” replied he, throwing one 
of the thongs over the head of the general ; and, before the 
latter had time to recover from his surprise, it was passed 
around his body, and his hands were pinioned fast behind. 

Melac comprehended that he was betrayed, and making 
desperate efforts to free himself, he lost his footing, and fell 
at full length on the granite pavement of the tower. The 
monk now sprang upon his body, and drawing from his 
bosom a long handkerchief, he tied it fast over his victim’s 
mouth. 

“Your cries might be heard, and some fool might come to 
the rescue,” said he. “ You shall die without being allowed to 
give utterance to your despair.” 


CASPAR’S VENGEANCE. 


453 


Melac’s eyeballs almost started from their sockets, but the 
monk looked on without pity. He dragged him to that part 
of the tower whence the gilded weathercock could be seen toy- 
ing with the free air of heaven. The sky shone blue and 
bright ; never had it seemed so fair to the wretch that was 
looking his last upon its azure dome. He felt himself raised 
in the arms of the monk, firmly fastened with a second thong, 
and then tossed outside the tower, where he hung, a small, dark 
speck in the eyes of the officers that were awaiting his return 
to the hall of council. 

And now the monk cast himself down upon his knees. 
“ O God, I thank Thee that Thou hast granted my prayer, and 
delivered this monster to my hands ! ’Tis Thy will that I 
should be his executioner, and may Thy holy will be done for- 
ever and forever ! ” 

He rose and approached Melac, whose face was ghastly 
pale, and whose eyes were overflowing with tears. “ Now,” 
said he, “ know why I have delivered you unto a cruel and 
agonizing death. For months I have tracked your path, with 
power to have stricken you every hour of the day. But sud- 
den death was too merciful for such a brute as you ! The 
Hyena of Esslingen shall have the horror and apprehension 
of a slow, torturing, and solitary death. Without sympathy 
and without witnesses shall he die, and in his last moments, 
when his flesh quivers with agony, and the devouring flames 
shall consume his odious body, let him think on Marie Wen- 
gelin, and on me, her lover and betrothed husband — Cas- 
par ! ” 

Without another word, he drew from Melac’s finger his 
signet-ring, and began to descend the winding-stair. The eye 
of his victim followed his tall, manly figure until it disap- 
peared forever from his sight ; and then he listened to his re- 
treating footsteps until they grew faint and more faint, and 
all hope was lost ! An hour of mortal agony went by ; the 
sun sank slowly to rest, and a few stars brightened the sap- 
phire vault above him. Suddenly a red glow brightened the 
heavens, and gilded the dark waters of the Rhine — that Rhine 
which he had so incarnadined with blood ! Avenging God ! 
It was the fire himself had kindled ! It leaped up from every 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


45 i 

point of Speier — and now — now the cathedral was in flames, • 
and death — slow, lingering, and agonizing — had overtaken 
the Hyena of Esslingen ! 


CHAPTER V. 

THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 

“ I can never consent to such a disgraceful marriage for 
my son,” cried Elizabeth-Charlotte to her husband. 

“ Madame, I look upon it as a great honor that my son 
should espouse the daughter of the king.” 

“ The daughter of shame and infamy— the daughter of a 
man who, violating his marriage-vow — ” 

“ Madame,” interrupted the duke, “ you forget that you are 
speaking of his majesty the King of France ! ” 

“ King of France ? There is no question of a king, but of 
my brother-in-law, of whose faults — nay, sins, I may surely 
speak, within the walls of my own cabinet, I suppose.” 

“ Madame,” replied the duke, trying to draw up his small 
person until he fairly stood on tiptoe, “ madame, I forbid you 
to express yourself in such terms of your sovereign and mine.” 

“ Forbid me to speak the truth, you mean. And to be sure, 
at a court like this, where everybody feeds on flattery, truth is 
strangely out of place.” 

“ Like yourself, for instance,” observed the duke. 

“ Yes, like myself,” replied the duchess, with a sweet smile 
that illumined her plain features, and leut them a passing 
beauty. “ I believe that I am most unwelcome among the fine 
and fashionable folks of Paris ; but it is not my fault that I 
am here, a poor, homely sparrow in a flock of peacocks and 
parrots.” 

“ Madame,” replied the duke, pompously, “ if you choose to 
consider yourself as a sparrow, you have my full consent to 
do so, although I must say that it is somewhat presuming for 
any one so to designate the woman whom I honored with my 
hand. But I must always regret that you have never dis- 


THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 


455 


played enough tact to lay aside your plebeian German man- 
ners, and resume those of the courtly and elegant entourage of 
the refined King of France.” 

The eyes of the duchess shot fire, and the hue on her cheeks 
deepened to scarlet. 

‘‘ Your manners may be refined, monseigneur ; but God 
shield me from your morals ! The war you are waging 
against my native land is one of assassination and rapine ; and 
oh ! how I wish that I were free to leave France forever, that 
I might suffer and die with my dear, slaughtered countrymen ! 
But dearly as I love my native land, I love my children still 
more. Maternal love is stronger in my heart than patriotism, 
and my Elizabeth and my Philip are more to me than Ger- 
many 1 ” 

“You say nothing of me,” observed the duke, sentiment- 
ally. “ Am I, then, nothing to you ? ” 

t * Yes, monseigneur, you are the father of my children. I 
plighted my faith to you, and I have kept my marriage-vows. 
But you know, as well as I, that we were both nothing but 
royal merchandise, bartered for reasons of state, and that we 
have never been congenial. Nevertheless, I love you as the 
father of my Philip ! for he has your handsome face and your 
refined and courtly bearing.” 

“ Madame,” returned the duke, blushing with gratification, 
“I thought you disdained to flatter.” 

“I do not flatter you, monseigneur,” cried the duchess, 
cordially grasping his hand, and leading him to the mantel, 
over which hung a full-length portrait of the youthful Duke 
de Chartres. “See,” exclaimed she with affectionate pride, 
“see what a beautiful picture Mignet has made of him. It 
was done in secret in Mignet’s studio, and was brought to me 
yesterday as a birthday present from my boy.” 

“ It was very thoughtless of Philip to visit Mignet,” ob- 
jected the duke. “He too often forgets his rank and rela- 
tionship to the king.” 

“ Forgive him, monseigneur. He forgot his station, to re- 
member his filial affection,” and for several moments the 
mother’s eyes were fondly fixed upon the portrait. “ Look ! ” 
resumed she ; “ these are your eyes, your well-developed fore- 


456 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


head, your aquiline nose, your pleasant and expressive mouth. 
In your youth, you were as handsome as he— I have often 
heard it said that you were the handsomest cavalier in Paris.” 

“ Except the king, madame— except the king ! I am too 
loyal a subject to excel his majesty in anything. I am glad, 
however, that you think my son resembles me ; to me there is 
a blended likeness of both his parents in his countenance.” 

“ Never, never ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth-Charlotte, with ani- 
mation. “There is no trace of my coarse features in that 
aristocratic face ; and yet, like the owl that hatched the eagle's 
egg, I am proud of calling him my son. And now, monsei- 
gneur, let me implore of you not to cross the escutcheon of our 
eaglet with the bar-sinister that disgraces the arms of Made- 
moiselle de Blois.” 

“Madame,” exclaimed the duke, much irritated, “speak 
more respectfully of the daughter of Louis XIV. ! She has 
been recognized by his majesty, and there is no stain upon her 
arms.” 

“ Pardon me — it is not in the power of any sovereign to 
erase the foul blot of her birth ; and I shudder when I think 
of an alliance between the son of the Duke of Orleans and 
grandson of the Elector Palatine, and the daughter of a king’s 
leman. If his majesty mentions the subject to me, I shall tell 
him as much.” 

“ Impossible ! ” cried the duke, aghast. “ I have already 
promised that you would solicit the honor of an alliance with 
Mademoiselle de Blois.” 

“You promised what I will not perform. Do you suppose 
that I, by birth and marriage a royal princess, would debase 
myself so far as to ask for my son’s wife the daughter of a 
harlot who drove the hapless queen to her grave ? and to take 
her by the hand, and present her to the court as my daughter ? 
I would rather absent myself forever from court, and I will 
certainly not attend the king’s ball to-night.” 

“You cannot do that, for you accepted the invitation 
yesterday.” 

“ Yesterday I knew not the humiliation implied in my 
acceptance. To-day I know it, and I will excuse myself, and 
be sick.” 


THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 


457 


“ Madame, I command you to appear at the ball,” cried out 
the enraged duke, “ and we shall see whether you presume to 
rebel against my conjugal authority.” 

“ I shall not rebel,” replied the duchess. “ Since you com- 
mand my presence, you shall have it ; but I warn you that I 
shall mortally offend the king, for—” 

The duke was about to protest anew against his wife’s blas- 
phemy, when the old German lady of honor, who presided 
over the toilet of her highness, rushed into the room in a state 
of great agitation. 

“ What is the matter, Katharina ? ” asked the duchess. 

“ Your royal highness,” replied Katharina, panting, “ a cou- 
rier has just arrived from the Countess Louise. He has ridden 
day and night to deliver his message, and, although he is cov- 
ered with mud and dust, he insisted that I should announce 
him to your royal highness.” 

“ A courier from Louise ! ” murmured the duchess. 
u Something must have happened ! Go, Kathi, bid him come 
into my little parlor. — Will monseigneur excuse me? I am 
deeply concerned lest some misfortune should have befallen 
my sister.” 

“ Sister ! Is the Countess Louise the daughter of a princess 
Palatine ? ” 

“No, monseigneur ; you know that she is the daughter of 
the Countess Dagenfeld, my father’s wedded wife — although 
never acknowledged as such — because she was not of royal 
birth. There is no bar-sinister on Louise’s shield ; she is truly 
and honorably my half-sister. ” 

The duchess bowed and hastened to her parlor, where the 
courier was awaiting her arrival. 

“ Has anything happened to the countess ? Is she ill ? Have 
I lost my dear relative ? ” 

“ No, your royal highness. Your princely relatives are 
well, and here — here is — ” 

He made an attempt to place a letter in her hand, but reeled 
and fell, exhausted, at her feet. 

“ Pardon me, madame,” said he, “ I have been for three 
days and nights in the saddle. My strength has given way— I 
cannot rise. But read your letter, I implore you.” 

GO 


458 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The duchess stooped, and took it from his nerveless hand ; 
then, commending him to the care of Katharina, she broke the 
seal and began to read. 

Its contents affected her so terribly, that her teeth chattered, 
her knees trembled, and, throwing herself upon the sofa, she 
covered her face with her hands and wept. 

But she wept for a moment only. 

‘‘Katharina,” cried she, to her old confidante, who was 
chafing the temples of the courier, “ leave that poor youth for 
a moment,, and fetch me a mantilla and hood. I must go to 
the king at once ! ” 

“ Your royal highness is in a neglige,” remonstrated Katha- 
rina ; “I will have to dress you.” 

“ I cannot wait to be dressed,” cried Elizabeth-Charlotte ; 
“ speed away, and bring me my wrappings. God be praised, 
the king will be at home ! Thousands of lives depend upon 
my intercession ! ” 

Katharina returned with the mantilla, which, without the 
least regard to grace, her royal highness flung over her stout 
figure, while she jerked the hood over her head with an im- 
petuosity that made the old lady wring her hands. 

“ Oh, her hair is down, and the hood all twisted to one 
side,” murmured the mistress of the toilet, as the duchess, indif- 
ferent to all forms of civilization, dashed down the staircase 
and leaped into her carriage. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE DELIVERANCE OF TRIER. 

The equipage thundered along the streets of Paris, and 
drew up before the hooded door, at the side entrance of the 
Louvre, which was especially reserved for the use of the royal 
family. 

The duchess sprang from her carriage, hurried up the stair- 
case, almost stumbling over the sentry as he made an attempt 
to present arms, and flew into the antechamber that led to the 
cabinet of the king. 


THE DELIVERANCE OF TRIER. 


459 


She came in like a frigate under full sail, but was encoun- 
tered by a gentleman of the privy chamber, who barred the 
entrance. 

u Make way for me — do ! ” said she, clasping her hands. “ I 
must see his majesty this very moment.” 

“ His majesty is in secret conference with the Marquis do 
Louvois and Madame de Maintenon,” was the reply. “Not 
even your royal highness can obtain admittance.” 

“So much the better if Louvois is there. Let me pass — I 
command you, let me pass 1 ” 

“ Indeed, madame, you know not what you ask. I have 
received stringent orders to admit nobody.” 

“ The royal family are never included in these prohibi- 
tions,” cried the duchess. 

“ But to-day, your royal highness, I was placed here to pre- 
vent their coming ! You well know that none but the princes 
and princesses of the blood would presume to make use of this 
entrance.” 

“ It concerns the lives of thousands ! ” urged the duchess. 

“ Did it concern that of my own son, I would know better 
than to seek to save it by disobeying his majesty’s orders.” 

“ You will not — positively will not let me pass ? ” 

“I dare not, madame.” 

“ Then you must excuse me, but I shall force my way,” re- 
turned Elizabeth-Charlotte, grasping the slender form of the 
king’s gentleman, and, with her powerful hands, flinging him 
into the corner of the room, while she strode rapidly to the 
opposite door, and opened and had closed it again before her 
opponent had recovered his breath. 

Before touching the bolt of the door which opened directly 
into the king’s cabinet, she paused to recover her breath, and 
to gather courage for the coming interview. She trembled 
from head to foot, and leaned against the wall for support. 
But Elizabeth-Charlotte was not a woman to be deterred, by 
fear of kings, from what she deemed her duty. With the reso- 
lution that characterized her, she uttered one short ejacula- 
tion for help from above, and opened the door. 

Louvois was in the act of speaking. “Sire, our arms are as 
successful in Italy as they have been in Germany, where town 


m 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


after town has been taken without the drawing of a sword — 
where the people have offered the keys of all the fortresses to 
your generals, and have welcomed the advent of our troops 
with joy. ” 

“Your majesty,” cried the duchess, coming forward, “ do 
not believe him ! He tells a falsehood — 0 God ! what a false- 
hood ! ” 

The astonishment of that cabinet-council is not to be de- 
scribed. The king rose from his seat and confronted her with 
eyes that flamed with anger. 

“ Madame,” exclaimed the grand monarque, in a rage, 
were you not told that I would see nobody this morning ? ” 

“ Yes, your majesty ; so emphatically told, that, before I 
could make my way to your presence, I was obliged to hurl 
your gentleman to the other side of the room. It is not his 
fault that I am here ! ” 

Madame de Maintenon rolled up her eyes, Louvois sneered, 
and Louis, looking as if he wished that he could consume his 
sister-in-law with a glance, turned around to his minister. 

“ Monsieur Louvois, he so good as to forget the imprudent 
words that madame has just spoken. It is impossible that a 
princess of the blood should so far forget her own dignity as 
to lay hands on an attendant of the king. Take care that the 
indiscretion of her royal highness go no farther than these 
walls ; and, if you hear it spoken of, contradict it flatly.” 

‘•Your majesty,” exclaimed the duchess, “that is the very 
way to make everybody believe it, for surely nobody will be- 
lieve Monsieur Louvois.” 

“Sire,” said Louvois, shrewdly, “I -was about to communi- 
cate tidings of the greatest importance to your majesty. I 
would he glad of your permission to resume our conference. 
It is late, and — ” 

“ Madame,” cried Louis, “ once for all, leave this room, and 
interrupt us no longer.” 

“Does your majesty suppose that, after forcing my way 
to your presence, I intend to retreat without accomplishing 
the object for which I came? I entreat of you, hear me, 
and judge for yourself whether my pertinacity is not justified 
by the occasion of my intrusion.” 


THE DELIVERANCE OF TRIER. 


461 


“Very well, madame,” replied Louis. “I will remember 
tliat you are my brother’s wife, and forget an excess of pre- 
sumption which, were you not my sister-in-law, would merit 
the Bastile. Speak, and let us hear your petition. It needs to 
be one of moment to earn your pardon.” 

With these words, Louis threw himself into his arm-chair, 
and, pointing to a tabouret at hand, requested her royal high- 
ness to be seated. The duchess looked around the room, and, 
seeing a vacant arm-chair a little farther off, she rolled it for- 
ward, and seated herself with great grandeur. This chair be- 
longed to Madame de Maintenon, who, a moment previous, had 
risen and walked to the window. 

She became very red in the face, and, coming directly in 
front of the duchess, said : “ Madame, this is my own arm- 
chair ; be so good as to excuse me if I ask you to rise.” 

“ Impossible, my dear marquise, impossible ! ” was the re- 
joinder. “ His majesty requests me to be seated, and this is the 
only seat in the room that accords with my rank. If his 
majesty allows you to seat yourself in his presence, and that 
of a princess .of the blood, there is a tabouret which doubtless 
was placed for your accommodation on such occasions.” 

Madame de Maintenon looked imploringly at the king, 
hoping that he would interfere ; but he did not. His eyes 
were cast down, and it was plain that no help was to be ex- 
pected from him. His unacknowledged spouse was therefore 
obliged to yield the point, and put up with the tabouret. 

“Now, madame,” said Louis, as though rousing himself 
from profound meditation, “I await your pleasure.” 

“ Sire,” cried the duchess, “ I have come hither to accuse 
yonder traitor, who, in your majesty’s name, is perpetrating 
deeds of horror that are enough to brand any sovereign with 
infamy. Did I not hear him say, as I entered this room, that 
the French army was received with open arms by the Ger- 
mans ? ” 

“ You did, madame. As a proof of the truth of this asser- 
tion, here are the very keys of all the towns and fortresses we 
have besieged. ” 

The king pointed to a basket wreathed with flowers, where- 
in lay a heap of gigantic keys. 


462 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


Oh, sire,” exclaimed the duchess, “ these keys were pur- 
chased with blood and pillage. Your soldiers have not 
marched into Germany like the invading armies of a civilized 
nation ; they have come as incendiaries and assassins. Wit- 
ness my father’s castle, which they reduced to a heap of ashes.” 

“ My dear madame,” said Louis, deprecatingly, “ war is not 
a pastime. I regret that it was necessary to burn your father’s 
castle ; but you perceive that it was not burned in vain, for 
your countrymen, since then, have shown themselves amen- 
able to reason.” 

“ Sire, you are shamefully deceived ; and I have come to 
lay at the foot of your throne the plaint of an unhappy people. 
Ah, you little know what crimes are being committed in your 
name ! General Montclas himself shed tears when Mannheim 
was sacked and destroyed ; and, when the people of Durlach 
were driven by your soldiery into the very midst of the flames 
that were consuming their homes, the Duke de la Koche re- 
monstrated with the Marquis de Crequi on the atrocity of the 
crime. What do you suppose was the answer of the marquis ? 
4 Le roi le veut ! ’ ” 

“ Is this so ? ” asked the king, turning to Louvois, who 
was hiding his troubled countenance in the embrasure of a 
window. 

“ Sire, I have never heard of it before,” replied the minister. 

w Well may he say that he never heard of it, if he means 
that your majesty never gave such an order to him ! ” cried 
Elizabeth-Charlotte. But if he means that he did not order 
these massacres, he tells an untruth. He is avenging on the 
people of Germany the laurels which Prince Eugene has 
earned in the service of the emperor, and which, hut for him, 
would have redounded to the glory of France. Oh, sire ! this 
w’ar is one of personal vengeance on the part of your wicked 
subject ; it is not waged for your honor or advantage. I ask 
in his presence, did the King of France order the destruction 
of Worms and Speier? Was it by the order of our gracious 
sovereign that the very house of God was committed to the 
flames ? ” 

“ Can such a crime have been perpetrated in my name ? ” 
cried Louis, with indignation. 


THE DELIVERANCE OF TRIER. 


463 


“Sire,” replied Louvois, “your majesty has said it — ‘War 
is no pastime.’ ” 

“ He does not deny it,” cried the duchess, wiping away her 
tears, and struggling for composure to go on. u But what is 
done, is done — Worms and Speier are in ashes, and their mur- 
dered inhabitants at rest. But, oh, my liege, my gracious lord, 
the city of Trier is threatened with the same fate ! For three 
days the people have been crying in vain for mercy. — At your 
feet, sire, I implore you, have pity, and save them from butch- 
ery ! ” 

And the duchess, with hands upraised, and eyes that were 
streaming with tears, sank on her knees before the king. 

Louis rose hastily from his seat. 

“ Rise, madame,” said he, “ and let us retire to yonder em- 
brasure. I wish to speak with you in private.” 

So saying, he gave her his hand, and conducted her to a 
deep recess at the farther end of the room, which was, in fact, 
a small apartment furnished with seats — a cabinet within a 
cabinet. He loosened the gold cord that confined the curtain 
to the side, and it fell to the floor — a thick, heavy portiere that 
shut all sound from the apartment without. Not satisfied with 
this, the king opened the casement, that the hum from the 
street below might effectually drown their voices. 

“ Now, madame,” said he, “ we will converse openly and 
without reserve, as it befits near relatives to do. Has your 
husband confided to you my wishes ? ” 

“ What wishes ? ” asked the duchess, who, in her anxiety 
for the fate of Trier, had forgotten the occurrence^ of the day. 

Louis was piqued. “ I allude to my matrimonial plans for 
your son and my daughter ; and I beg you to observe that 
where I have a right to command, I am gracious enough to re- 
quest their fulfilment. It is understood that the Duke de 
Chartres is to be betrothed to Mademoiselle de Blois this even- 
ing ? ” 

“Sire,” murmured Elizabeth-Charlotte, who began to un- 
derstand how much she was risking by her mediation in favor 
of Trier, “ sire, I implore you to save the lives of thousands of 
human beings, and you answer me by questions as to the mar- 
riage of my son ! ” 


4G4 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“My dear sister,” returned the king, with a smile, “surely 
you take more interest in the fate of your child, than in that 
of a remote town in Germany. My brother has already con- 
sented that our children should be united ; and, as you are 
here, I wish to hear from your own lips that the union gives 
you as much satisfaction as it will afford to me.” 

“ Sire, the Duke de Chartres is hut a lad — wild and un- 
tamed. He is not fit to be the husband of any woman.” 

The king frowned. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Sire, he is but sixteen years of age — a boy ; and it is not 
customary for princes of the blood to marry before the age of 
eighteen.” 

“ I know that as well as yourself. It is no question of mar- 
riage, only one of betrothal. Mademoiselle de Blois is hut 
twelve, and no fitter to he married than your son. But it is 
well for young people to know that they are hound by honor 
to restrain their passions and curb their irregularities. If the 
Duke de Chartres is untamed, you have the means of keeping 
him within bounds, and of forcing him to lead a chaste and 
virtuous life.” 

“ Oh, sire, you know full well that the promises of their 
parents do not bind youthful hearts. My Philip is inclined to 
dissipation, and it would he an unfortunate match for Made- 
moiselle de Blois.” 

“ Give me a direct answer to my inquiry. Do you consent 
to the betrothal of your son with my daughter ? ” 

Elizabeth-Charlotte burst into tears. “ Sire, I — I — cannot,” 
murmured she. 

The king flushed with anger. “I thought so,” said he. 
“You are nothing hut a mass of prejudices, which you would, 
rather die than relinquish. Very well, madame ; I bow to 
your prejudices, and will make no vain efforts to overcome 
them. Excuse me if, as regards your petition, I echo your 
words, 4 I cannot.’ ” 

“ Oh, sire,” cried the duchess, “ the cases are not parallel. 

I plead for the lives of so many unfortunates ! ” 

“ And I for my own gratification ; and assuredly a wish of 
the King of France is of a little more importance than the fate 
of a miserable German town.” 


THE DELIVERANCE OF TRIER. 


4G5 


“ Your majesty, it would cost you but a word to earn the 
blessings of so many grateful hearts.” 

“ And it would cost you but a word to give rank and an 
unequivocal position to my favorite daughter. For if a wom- 
an like yourself, recognized as a model of propriety, acknowl- 
edge her as your son’s bride, you insure an honorable future 
to all my children not born to the throne. It is in your power 
to raise Mademoiselle de Blois to the rank of a legitimate prin- 
cess of the blood, and thereby to confer a favor upon her father.” 

“ Oh, sire, indeed I cannot ! Ask any thing of me but that ! 
It would give the lie to all the teachings of my life ! It w r ould 
be an acknowledgment of the worthlessness of chastity — of 
honor ! Oh, forgive me ! My brain reels ; I know not what 
I say 1 ” 

“ But I do; and I have heard enough. I shall counter- 
mand the soiree, and seek another bridegroom for Mademoiselle 
de Blois. But Trier shall fall, and on your head be the fate 
of its inhabitants ! ” 

He rose and would have put aside the portiere, but his hand 
was convulsively clutched, and the duchess, in a voice that 
was hoarse with agony, gasped : 

“ Have I understood ? You would barter the fate of Trier 
for my consent to this unnatural marriage ! ” 

“Yes, by God, I do ! ” was the profane and passionate reply 
of the king. 

“Stay — stay,” murmured she, trembling in every limb. 
“ Would you rescue the city if I consented ? ” 

“I will do so, with pleasure.” 

The duchess shivered, clasped her hands together, and, 
closing her eyes as though to hide her humiliation from Heav- 
en, she retracted her refusal, and then fell almost insensible 
into an arm-chair. 

The king approached her and kissing her, said, “Madame, 
from my heart, I thank you.” 

The poor duchess scarcely heeded these gracious words. 
She had received a blow that well-nigh blunted her heart to 
the sufferings of her countrymen. But she had made the sac- 
rifice of her principles, and she must reap the reward of that 
terrible sacrifice. 


466 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“Sire,” said she, as soon as she had recovered strength 
enough to articulate, “ sire, fulfil your promise immediately, 
or it will be too late.” 

“ Give me your hand, dear sister,” replied Louis. “ Once 
more I thank you for the happiness you have conferred upon 
me, and the first gift of Mademoiselle de Blois to her mother- 
in-law shall be the safety of Trier. I implore you, try to 
love the poor child, for my sake. ” 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE FIRE-TONGS. 

Raising the curtain, Louis XIV. offered his hand, and the 
royal brother and sister-in-law re-entered the cabinet, where 
their return was eagerly awaited by Madame de Maintenon, 
and uneasily expected by the minister of war. 

“ Monsieur de Louvois,” said the king, 4 I am in possession 
of all the details that relate to the shameful abuse that has 
been made of my name in Germany. The cruel practices which 
you have authorized toward an innocent population must cease 
at once, and our troops be commanded to prosecute the war as 
becomes the army of a Christian nation.” 

The king, while he spoke these w T ords, was gradually ad- 
vancing to his writing-desk, which stood close to the mantel. 
Seating himself in his arm-chair, he turned his countenance 
away from the penetrating glances of De Maintenon, and be- 
gan to play with the bronze shovel and tongs that lay crossed 
upon the fender. 

After a pause, during which he waited in vain for a reply 
from Louvois, he resumed : 4 Why do you not answer me, 
Louvois ? ” 

4 Sire, your wishes shall be fulfilled. The next courier that 
leaves for Germany, shall bear your royal commands to the 
army, and they shall be ordered to remain altogether on the 
defensive.” 

“ What do you mean, sir ? ” cried the king. 


THE FIRE-TONGS. 


467 


“If your majesty intends to treat your enemies with clem- 
ency, you must expect no more victories, but remain content 
with the territory you have already acquired. What are we 
to do, if we are crippled by injudicious and false humanity ? 
Must we relinquish our claims ? Shall we content ourselves 
with having made threats which we are too pusillanimous to 
execute ? ” 

“ Monsieur,” said Louis, haughtily, “ you are becoming im- 
pertinent. Cease your questions, and obey my commands. 
Send off your couriers at once. Trier shall not be destroyed ; 
nor shall its inhabitants be driven from their dwellings. Pri- 
vate property shall be respected, and the temples of the Most 
High held sacred.” 

“ Sire,” said Louvois, “ I will obey ; but, unhappily, as re- 
gards Trier, your clemency comes too late. I cannot save it.” 

“Cannot !” shouted Louis, who to please his sister-in-law 
had worked himself into a veritable fury. “Who dares say 
he cannot, when I command ? ” 

“ Your majesty, what is done cannot be undone.” 

At these words the king sprang from his chair, still hold- 
ing the tongs in his hand. 

“ Do you mean to say that you have ordered new atrocities 
to be commited in Germany ?” exclaimed he. 

“ Sire,” replied Louvois defiantly, “ if it pleases you to term 
the necessities of war atrocities, so be it. The people of Trier 
having imitated the stubbornness of those of Speier, I ordered 
them to be subjected to the same treatment.” 

“ Sir,” cried Louis, raising the tongs, as if he intended to 
assail his minister with them, “ you shall countermand this 
order at once, or I will smite you as the lightning blasts the 
oak ! ” All this time he was advancing, until the tongs were 
in dangerous proximity with Louvois’ head.* 

The minister was thoroughly frightened. “Sire,” ex- 
claimed he, receding in terror, “ would you murder me?” 

“It would be too honorable an end for you to die by my 
hands,” replied the king, letting fall his tongs. “ But this I 
say to you : if Trier is destroyed I will make an example of 

* Historical.— See “ Memoirs of the Court of France,” by the Marquis de 
Dangeau. 


4C8 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


you that shall deter any other traitor from using my name to 
gratify his wicked revenge. Send off your couriers ; nor re- 
turn to this palace until you come to inform me that Trier Is 
safe.” So saying, the King turned his hack, and began to con- 
verse with Madame de Maintenon on the subject of an after- 
noon ride ; after which he offered his arm to his sister-in law 
and conducted her himself to the head of the private staircase. 

He had no sooner left the room than Louvois darted to the 
side of Madame de Maintenon, who was just about to raise a 
portiere leading to her own apartments. 

Catching her dress in his agitation, Louvois implored her 
to remain. 

“ Wherefore, monsieur ? ” asked she, coldly. 

“ Oh, madame, I fear that I shall never be able to rescue 
this accursed city, and, I implore you, be my mediatrix with 
his majesty.” 

“ On what grounds, monsieur ? ” 

“ Oh, madame, you have enemies as well as I : let us make 
a compact together, and crush them all. Uphold me for this 
once, and you will not find me ungrateful.” 

“ I fear no man’s enmity,” was the reply of the marquise. 
“ My trust is in God, who ruleth all things.” 

“ You refuse me then ? ” said Louvois. 

“ I am not in a position to defy the king, and uphold his re- 
bellious subjects. Were I Queen of France, my influence 
would, perhaps, avail ; as it is, I would advise you to make all 
speed to dispatch your couriers, and thereby rescue Trier and 
yourself.” 

With these consolatory words, the marquise disappeared ; 
and Louvois, taking her advice, unpalatable though it was, 
rushed in undignified haste through the corridors, and 
plunging into his carriage, was driven at full gallop to his 
hotel. 

Twenty minutes later his couriers were on their way. To 
him w r ho arrived at Trier first, Louvois promised a purse of one 
thousand louis d’ors, and, if he reached the city in time to save 
it, the sum was to be doubled. 

Thanks to this reward, as well as to the dilatory movements 
of the courier that had borne the order for destruction, Trier 


THE FIRE-TONGS. 469 

was saved on the very morning' of the day which should have 
been its last. 

Louvois was ordered to bring the news to the duchess in 
person. 

She was in her cabinet with the Duke de Chartres, who had 
been complaining of the ugliness and stupidity of his affianced 
bride. Louvois was announced, and the duchess, in her im- 
petuous way, hurried to the door and met him — not by way of 
welcoming him, however. 

“ I never expected to see you here under my roof,” said she, 
“ nor would I receive you had you not come from his maj- 
esty.” 

“ Madame, I will withdraw as soon as my message is de- 
livered,” replied Louvois, haughtily. “ His majesty has sent 
me to announce to your royal highness that Trier is safe.” 

“ Now, God be thanked ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth-Charlotte 
solemnly. 

“With your leave, madame, I withdraw,” observed Lou- 
vois. 

“Not yet. You have brought me tidings of one deliver- 
ance — I will impart to you another. Have you any news from 
my poor Laura ? ” 

A cloud overspread the minister’s brow. “ I have not 
heard from her for more than a year, at which time she fled 
from her husband’s castle, how or whither he has never been 
able to discover.” 

“ And you — have you no idea of her whereabouts ? ” 

“ She must either have died, or have retired to a convent.” 

“ She has done neither,” replied the duchess. 

“ She lives ! ” cried Louvois, with more terror in his voice 
than joy. 

“Yes; dear, ill-used Laura ! She lives, and lives happily 
with him whose arm will protect her against future persecu- 
tion.” 

“ Your royal highness does not mean to say that my daugh- 
ter has sought the protection of Prince Eugene ? ” cried Lou- 
vois. 

“ I do, indeed : they are united at last, whom you sought to 
put asunder.” 


470 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“Great God!” was the ministers exclamation. “She has 
given herself up to shame ! She lives publicly as the mistress 
of a man who was not worthy to become her husband ! Your 
royal highness must have been misinformed.” 

“I have it from herself, nevertheless.” 

“And your royal highness, that hears the name of the 
most virtuous woman in Paris, is not shocked at her un- 
chastity ? ” 

“ Unchastity ! You talk of unchastity, who, while she was 
plighting her troth to this same Eugene, were not ashamed to 
prostitute her to Strozzi ! Cease your disgusting cant, and 
learn that I acknowledge and respect the tie that binds your 
daughter to her real spouse : and woe to you, if you dare 
trouble the current of her peaceful life ! Farewell. Say to 
his majesty that I shall be forever grateful for the deliverance 
of Trier.” 

“ Philip,” added she, when Louvois had left the room, “ for- 
give me, beloved son, if I sacrificed you to the well-being of 
my oppressed countrymen ! You say that your affianced is 
stupid ; but every weary hour you spend in her society shall 
be repaid to you by the blessings of those whom you have 
saved from assassination. Moreover, Mademoiselle de Blois 
is not yet your bride, and many a thing may intervene to 
prevent you from being forced to espouse her. If your 
mother can do any thing to frustrate it, be sure that she 
will come to your assistance. Her consent was wrung from 
her, ’tis true — but not her willingness.” 

“ Laura the mistress of Eugene of Savoy ! ” muttered Lou- 
vois, as he descended the marble staircase of the ducal palace. 
“ And to propitiate that royal virago, I dare not revenge my- 
self ! But no !” said he suddenly, “no — I need not lift a fin- 
ger. I will leave it to Barbesieur ; he will attend to it. He 
will put an end to her infamous life ! ” 


BRAVE HEARTS. 


471 


CHAPTER VIII. 

BRAVE HEARTS. 

The embassy of Prince Eugene to Turin had been attend- 
ed with the happiest results. His arguments in favor of the 
emperor had proved irresistible, for he had worked upon the 
pride as well as the ambition of his kinsman. He had ad- 
dressed him as a “ royal highness ; ” had promised him acces- 
sion of territory ; and finaUy had imparted to him a diplomatic 
secret which decided him at once to join the imperialists. In 
the event of any manifestation on the part of Victor Amadeus 
that was friendly toward the emperor, Louvois had ordered Mar- 
shal Catinat to take him prisoner, confine him in the fortress of 
Pignerolles, and appoint the duchess-dowager Regent of Savoy. 

The astounding insolence of the French minister gained a 
zealous partisan for Leopold. “ I am yours and the emperor’s 
forever,” cried the indignant duke. “ And from my heart I 
hope that we may both have speedy opportunity to avenge the 
wrongs we have sustained at the hands of Louis XIV. and 
that atrocious villain— Louvois.” 

“ As for my wrongs,” replied Eugene, with a beaming smile, 
“ they are all forgotten in my excess of happiness.” 

“ So, then, you are happy at last ? ” asked Victor Amadeus, 
kindly. 

“ Supremely blest,” was Eugene’s emphatic reply. 

“ Supremely blest ? ” repeated the duke, shaking his head. 
“ Pardon me if I think otherwise. Do you not think that you 
could be made happier by obtaining the sanction of the church 
to your liaison with the Marchioness de Strozzi ? ” 

u I would be the proudest and happiest of created beings if 
I could call her my wife,” sighed Eugene. “ And since the 
subject has been broached between us, I will confide in you. 
I have written to the pope an account of Laura’s fraudulent 
marriage with Strozzi, and I hope that his holiness will recog- 
nize the unlawfulness of that wicked transaction. It seems to 
me impossible that Religion should look upon it otherwise 
than as an act of falsehood.” 


472 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“You have no answer as yet from Rome ? ” 

“ I expect an answer to-day ; and now, that the crisis of my 
Laura’s destiny is at hand, I begin to he timorous as to the 
success of my petition. The pope is not my friend ; I have 
upheld the Waldenses against the church, and have sought 
their alliance for Austria. These, I know, are serious of- 
fences ; and not less displeasing to his holiness will he the 
news of your defection from France to Austria through my 
intervention.” 

“ True— true,” said Victor Amadeus, thoughtfully. “Your 
embassy to Turin will prove prejudicial to your own inter- 
ests at Rome. I am afraid they will suffer. And if his holi- 
ness will not grant a divorce, what is to become of the mar- 
chioness ? You will not continue to live with her out of wed- 
lock ? ” 

“ Pardon me,” replied Eugene. “ She is mine in the sight 
of God, and man shall not part us. Our union is holy in our 
own eyes, and we shall maintain its sanctity against the whole 
world. It will very soon forget us, and consign us to the ob- 
livion we covet.” 

“ You are not so easily consigned to oblivion, my dear 
cousin ; you occupy a prominent position before the world, 
and the brighter your fame as a hero, the darker will be the 
shadow that falls upon your mistress. My wife and I have 
talked this matter over, and we have determined to make a 
joint effort either to have you formally united at the altar, or 
to use our honest endeavors to induce you to separate. The 
duchess has sent three invitations to the marchioness, every 
one of which has been refused.” 

“The marchioness desires no intercourse with the world. 
She is independent of its sanction or its blame.” 

“Because, for the present, her world is concentrated in 
you. But it will not always be so ; and the duchess has gone 
this very morning to pay her a visit, hoping to prove to her 
that a woman should not only avoid wrong, but the appearance 
of wrong. At the same time, we both render ample justice to 
the purity of intention of the marchioness.” 

“ Not only of intention, but of conduct,” replied Eugene. 

“ But let us discuss other matters. The elector, Max Emman- 


BRAVE HEARTS. 473 

uel, has arrived at Montcaliers, the imperialists have joined 
him, and the Spanish troops are on their way.” 

u My army also shall march to Montcaliers to-morrow. It 
is time that the atrocities of Louis XIV. should cease. His 
soldiers have been worse than an irruption of the Goths both 
in Germany and in Italy.” 

“ With the help of God, we will emulate their deeds in 
France. ” 

While the two Princes of Savoy were in their cabinet to- 
gether, the duchess was on her way to visit the marchioness. 
She was determined not to give Laura the opportunity of deny- 
ing herself. To this end she followed the lackey that an- 
nounced her, and as he opened the door, and was about to pro- 
nounce her name, she passed him by, and, going directly up 
to Laura, introduced herself. 

She was calmly and courteously received, and, after some 
desultory conversation, entered upon her delicate mission. 

“ I have but one rule of action,” said Laura, in return, “ and 
I cannot wound my own convictions by shaping my conduct 
according to the standard of others.” 

“ But surely you do not apply this rule to your unlawful 
liaison with Prince Eugene ! ” exclaimed the duchess. 

“ It is no unlawful liaison,” replied Laura, simply. “ I am 
Eugene’s w T ife in his eyes and in mine : we have plighted our 
troth, and will be faithful to our vows until death ! ” 

“ And to this fidelity you sacrifice your honor and your 
peace of mind. Prince Eugene is but a mortal man. He is, 
for the time, desperately in love, and scorns all possibility of 
change. But by-and-by he will begin to be annoyed by the 
world’s censure ; he will be ashamed to be seen with you — ” 

“Madame,” interrupted Laura, proudly, “by what right do 
you thus prejudge the conduct of Prince Eugene ?” 

“ By the right of experience, my poor child, and of a knowl- 
edge of the human heart, whose inconsistencies are all un- 
known to you. Let me relate to you a history that concerns 
me nearly, and has caused me many a burning tear. My hus- 
band was once beloved by a beautiful woman, who, for his 
sake, left her husband, the court, and the grand monde, to be 
the solitary inhabitant of a castle, which, to be sure, was fit to 
31 


474 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


be the abode of a goddess. She became the mistress of the 
Duke of Savoy, who loved her to distraction. 1, his unhappy 
wife, had no right to remonstrate, for our union was like that 
of princes generally, an affair of state ; and Victor Amadeus 
never knew that my poor heart was racked by jealousy, and 
that many a time I prayed for death as the only remedy for 
my anguish. For a time the duke vras contented to see the 
Countess de la Verrue in her castle, but by-and-by he exacted 
of this poor devoted creature another sacrifice — that of return- 
ing with a brow of shame to the world. He fitted up a resi- 
dence for her in Turin ; passed all his time at her side ; drove 
out with her, and finally held his levees at her palace. Now, 
there were certain festivals de rigueur that were obliged to be 
given at the ducal palace ; and from these festivals the count- 
ess would be excluded unless she was invited by myself. I 
had nothing to lose, and hoping to win an approving smile 
from Victor, I invited bis mistress, and, when she entered the 
hall of reception, placed her above all possibility of slight by 
advancing to meet her.” 

“ That was magnanimous indeed ! ” exclaimed Laura. 

The duchess smiled. “ Do not overestimate the act, my 
dear child. There was quite as much policy in it as magna- 
nimity. I know men well : they are greater slaves to opinion 
than women ; they have not half our moral courage, and not 
one of them can long confront the disapprobation of the world. 
From this day, a change came over the spirit of my husband. 
Seeing that the world held me in high esteem for my sacrifice, 
and held his mistress very cheaply, he began to feel uncom- 
fortable when he brought her before its scrutiny. From dis- 
comfort he proceeded to shame, and finally the day came — the 
inevitable day that dawns for every woman who lays her honor 
at the feet of her lover. The poor countess was reproached for 
the sacrifices she had made, and blamed for her weakness in 
yielding to the importunities of her seducer ! She fled, broken- 
hearted from bis presence, and, like poor La Vail iere, took ref- 
uge in a convent. Oh, my dear young lady ! ” continued the 
duchess, taking Laura’s hand in her own, “ be warned, and do 
not court the fate of these unfortunate victims of man’s incon- 
stancy ! ” 


BRAYE HEARTS. 


475 


“ Madame,” returned Laura, “ tlieir fate in no way can af- 
fect me, for I am not the mistress of Prince Eugene. He can 
never reproach me with weakness, for he, like myself, believes 
in the holiness of our union. We have been sinned against, 
hut are not sinning. No woman can say of Eugene that he 
has broken his vows to her ; no man can say of me that I have 
been unfaithful to him ! ” 

“You forget the Marquis de Strozzi.” 

“Forget him ! Great God ! Forget the villain who, un- 
der cover of night, stole the vows I pledged to Eugene, and 
kept me his prisoner for five long years ! No, madame, I 
have not forgotten the Marquis de Strozzi ; but he is no hus- 
band of mine. My spouse before Heaven is Prince Eugene 
— and, so help me God, I will be true to him in life as in 
death ! ” 

“ You are a noble woman ; and your love, I admit, is as 
pure as that of Eve for Adam. But, for your exalted ideas of 
duty, you will receive naught from the world save scorn and 
contumely.” 

“ So be it. In my Eugene’s love will be my exceeding great 
reward. The arrows of the world’s contempt will fall harm- 
less at my feet, for his dear arm will shield me from their 
sharpness. My world is Eugene ; he alone is my husband, 
and my judge.” 

The duchess looked compassionately at the beautiful en- 
thusiast, and heaved a sigh. “ I cannot save you, my child : 
your resolution is mightier than my arguments, and I can 
only pity and love you. Farewell ! May your heroism meet 
with the reward it deserves.” 

Laura accompanied the duchess to the door, and returned, 
calm and serene, to her embroidery-frame. She was working 
a standard for her beloved Eugene, and appeared quite to have 
forgotten the visit of the duchess, when, suddenly her cheeks 
flushed, and she raised her head to listen. She sprang from 
her seat, crossed the room and opened the door. Eugene 
came in, clasped her in his arms, and imprinted a kiss on her 
fair brow. 

“ My own love, my white swan,” whispered he. 

She lifted her magnificent eyes to his, there and he read the 


476 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


history of her deep, deep love. They sat down together, his 
arm still around her waist. 

“ Has the Duchess of Savoy been here ? ” asked he. 

“Yes. She was here to persuade me, for the world’s sake, 
to leave you.” 

“ The duke has been doing the same by me,” said Eugene. 

And then they smiled. Neither one made protestations to 
the other ; neither one had any thing to relate. The heaven 
of their mutual trust was without a cloud. 

Their silent, solemn happiness was interrupted by a knock. 
Conrad came in with two dispatches — one from Germany, and 
one from Rome. Eugene took them from the golden salver 
on which they lay, and said : 

“With the permission of the marchioness, I will read 
them.” 

She bowed and smiled ; then, passing her arm through his, 
led him to a divan, and would have had him take a seat by her 
side. 

“ No, darling,” said he, gently putting her down upon its 
satin cushions. “ Lie there, while I sit at your feet and read 
the fiat of Rome.” 

He unfolded the letter, and read, Laura watching him 
the while ; smoothing his hair with her loving hands, and 
gazing in his face with tenderness unspeakable. As she gazed 
she saw a cloud pass over his features ; he looked up at her, 
and his eyes wore an expression of strange compassion and 
sorrow. 

Laura bent forward and kissed him. “What ails my 
love ? ” said she. 

“ This letter has destroyed a blessed dream, beloved. I had 
hoped that we had propitiated Fate, and that misfortune had 
ceased to follow us. ” 

“ Why, what have your political papers to do with our for- 
tunes ? ” 

“ This is not a political dispatch,” replied Eugene. “ It is 
the answer to a letter I addressed to Pope Innocent. Will 
you read it, dearest ? ” 

She took the paper from his hands, and then began to 
laugh. 


BRAVE HEARTS. 


477 


“ I do not read Latin,” said she. “ Translate it for me.” 

Eugene then rose, put his arm around her and read : 

u The sacrament of marriage is holy and inviolable, and it 
cannot be set aside. Woe he unto those who deny its sanctity 
and its irrevocable pledges ! The marchioness Strozzi was 
married by a priest, and her witnesses were a father and a 
brother. We are under the necessity of refusing the petition 
of the Prince of Savoy ; for, no representation of intentions 
misdirected, can stand against the deliberate consent of the 
parties to wedlock, witnessed by honorable relatives. We, 
therefore, call upon the Prince of Savoy to humble himself as 
beseems a man that has sinned against God and the Church, 
lest he incur her malediction, at the hands of the vicar of 
Christ on earth.” 

The paper fell from his hands and fluttered to her feet. 

“ You appealed to the pope to annul' my marriage with 
Strozzi ? ” asked she. 

“ Yes, my beloved. I would have aspired to the bliss of see- 
ing the beautiful Laura Bonaletta my own wife — my wife be- 
fore the world.” 

“ How good, how noble of you ! ” murmured she. “ You 
would have elevated poor Laura Bonaletta to the height of 
your own greatness, and would have had her bear your glori- 
ous name ! It would have been too much bliss for me to bear 
that honored name, Eugene : and yet ! oh, how I wish I 
might have called myself Princess of Savoy ! This happiness 
is denied me, and I must submit ; but I will not sin against 
my conscience, by allowing any judgment of mortal man to 
drive me from your side. Once more I lay my hand in yours, 
and what God has joined together, no power of man shall 
ever put asunder.” 

Eugene clasped her trembling hand in his, and, raising his 
eyes to heaven, recorded their vows. 

After a pause, Laura resumed : “ You have another letter 
to read, dear Eugene. Perhaps it may console you for our 
own disappointment. It is from Germany, and will, doubtless, 
bring pleasant tidings.” 

Eugene unfolded the dispatch, with a smile ; but scarcely 
had he glanced at its first words, when his face grew pale, 


478 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


and his hands trembled so that he could scarcely hold the 
paper. 

“ Ah ! ” cried Laura, “ another disappointment ! ” 

“ Oh, Laura,” sighed he, “ Charles of Lorraine is no more.” 

“ Your dearest friend ? ” 

u Ay — my dearest friend ! Charles of Lorraine dead ! — 
And dead of a broken heart. Not on the battle-field, as became 
the greatest hero of his age, but on a bed of sickness. No offi- 
cer by to do him honor — no soldiers there to weep for their 
adored commander ! Oh, I would be a happy man, Could I 
but win the love of my men as he did, and earn but one of 
the many laurels that were wreathed around his honored 
head ! ” * 

“ Your laurels will surpass his, my Eugene,” exclaimed 
Laura, with prophetic love. “ You are destined to achieve im- 
mortality.” 

Eugene shook his head, and, almost unconsciously, mur- 
mured these lines of Homer : 

“ Like leaves on trees, the race of man is found, 

Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; 

Another race the following spring supplies, 

They fall successive, and successive rise. 

So generations, in their course, decay, 

So flourish these, when those have passed away ! ” 

“ Any admission within these enchanted walls ? ” said a 
gay voice, behind them ; and, starting up in amazement, they 
beheld the tall figure of the Elector of Bavaria, and behind 
him, Conrad, with a perplexed and most distressed counte- 
nance. 

“ Before I say another word, let me exonerate Conrad from 
any complicity in my indiscretion,” said the elector ; “ for, I 
must say, that he told a series of falsehoods on your account, 
that will keep him out of heaven for many a month. But I 
surprised him glancing uneasily toward this door, so I took 
your Peter by the shoulders, put him aside, and walked into 
paradise without his permission.” 

* Prince Eugene’s own words. — Sec Zimmermann. 


BRAVE HEARTS. 


479 


“Very well, Conrad,” said Eugene; “you are excused.” 
And, taking the hand of the elector, he led him to the mar- 
chioness, and presented him as his dearest living friend. 

The elector kissed her hand and bent the knee before her 
as he would have done before an empress. 

“ Madonna,” said he, “ I bow before your beauty and your 
worth. I am a poor, sinful mortal, but I have, at least, an ap- 
preciation of heavenly goodness, and I come to do homage to 
the innocence, the purity, and the courage of my friend’s 
guardian angel.” 

“You are most welcome, prince ; but, I pray you, rise. It 
becomes not a hero like you to kneel before poor Laura Bo- 
naletta.” 

“ I w T ould have died but for her care,” said Eugene, when 
the elector had accepted a seat at Laura’s side. “ She came to 
me through perils that shame our every-day deeds on the field 
of battle.” 

“ I have heard of her miraculous fiight from one who loves 
her dearly. We rejoiced together over the news of her es- 
cape.” 

“ You allude to Lucretia,” said Laura — “how is she ? ” 

“ Like other mortals,” laughed the elector ; “ loving to-day 
and hating to-morrow, and, finally, discovering that lovers’ 
hate is love. Neither you nor Eugene can understand these 
vicissitudes of sublunary attachments ; for you have nothing 
in common with the stormy and changeful sea of ordinary 
loves. Heaven created you one for the other, and yoar lives 
are a development of that divine charity which ‘ believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, and endureth all things.’ ” 


BOOK VIII. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE ADVANCE INTO FRANCE. 

The war in Italy had lasted for three years without any 
decisive result on either side. Here and there some unimpor- 
tant advantages had been gained by the imperialists, which had 
then been balanced by some equally trifling defeats. The 
campaign had opened unfortunately. Against the advice of 
his generals, Victor Amadeus had given battle to General Cat- 
inat, near the abbey of Staffarda, and in spite of all that his 
kinsman Eugene could do by personal bravery to repair the 
blunder, the imperialists sustained a most humiliating defeat. 
Eugene, however, had the melancholy satisfaction of knowing 
that he had predicted the result, although his remonstrances 
had been unavailing to avert it. 

This disaster had the effect of cooling the zeal of Victor 
Amadeus to such an extent, that he actually began to repent of 
having taken sides against the French. He was too wary to be- 
tray his state of mind ; so he pretended great ardor, and called 
urgently for re-enforcements. Backed by the importunities 
of Prince Eugene, he succeeded in obtaining them, and at their 
head the Elector Max Emmanuel, commander-in-chief of all 
the imperial forces. 

In spite of all this, the war was not vigorously prosecuted. 
Max Emmanuel, although brave and true, seemed to have lost 
the qualities that had made him a wise and energetic com- 
mander : he lacked coolness when plans were to be conceived, 
and decision when they were to be carried out. He left all 
supervision to the care of his subordinates, and spent his days 
in the pursuit of pleasure. 


( 480 ) 


THE ADVANCE INTO FRANCE. 


481 


All this Prince Eugene perceived with unavailing regret. 
He was powerless to prevent it, for, as the youngest of the 
field-marshals, his duty was restricted to the mere execution 
of the orders of his superiors. The war dwindled down to an 
insignificant though bloody contest with the mountaineers of 
Savoy and the Italian peasantry, and things continued in this 
state until the allies of the emperor manifested their discon- 
tent, and called for the removal of Max Emmanuel. Field- 
marshal Carassa was recalled, and, at the beginning of the cam- 
paign of 1692, the command of the allied forces was given to 
Victor Amadeus, while Field-Marshal Caprara was appointed 
second in command. 

Circumstances now seemed favorable to an earnest prosecu- 
tion of the war. The imperialists were assembled at one 
point ; they were superior in numbers to the enemy, and at 
their head stood a man who lost no opportunity to publish to the 
world his devotion to Austria, and his detestation of France. 

Eugene was not as hopeful as the rest. He had had enough 
of valiant words, and was longing for valiant deeds. 

“We must advance into France,” said he, when the gener- 
als next assembled in council. “We must retaliate upon the 
people the persecutions of their army in Germany and Italy. 
We must enter by the pass of Barcelonetta, which for the 
present is unguarded. Before troops can arrive to succor the 
garrison, we shall have taken several more posts of impor- 
tance.” 

“ But should we take, will we be able to hold them ? ” asked 
Victor Amadeus, affecting wisdom. 

Eugene’s large eyes looked searchingly into the sealed book 
of his cousin’s shrewd countenance. 

“ Your highness,” replied he, “above all things let us have 
confidence in ourselves, and let us place some trust in the for- 
tunes of war.” 

“ Catinat is very sagacious,” observed General Laganay, the 
leader of the Spanish forces. “As soon as we move in the 
direction of Barcelonetta, he will re-enforce the garrison.” 

“Then so much the more necessity for speed on our part,” 
cried Eugene. “We must mislead the enemy, and make a 
feint on Pignerol. To this end, let us send a corps of obser- 


482 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


vation into Piedmont, while we order a detachment of dra- 
goons and infantry to possess themselves in all haste of the 
pass.” 

The Duke of Savoy looked thoughtful, and there was pro- 
found silence among the members of the war council. After 
a pause of some duration, Victor Amadeus raised his head, and 
gave a long searching look at the excited countenance of his 
cousin. 

“ The Prince of Savoy is right,” said he, at length. “We 
must avenge our wrongs, and carry the war into France. Our 
way lies through the vale of Barcelonetta, and we must move 
without delay.” 

The face of Eugene was so lit up by joy that his cousin 
smiled, and gave him a significant look. 

“ I have an account of my own to settle with France,” add- 
ed he, “ and personal affronts to resent. So has my cousin, 
who longs to avenge the injuries he has received from Lou- 
vois.” 

“ I assure your royal highness,” answered Eugene, eagerly, 
“ that personal feeling has naught to do with my opinions as 
to the prosecution of this war. I would despise myself if, in 
what I have spoken regarding the interests of the emperor, I 
had been actuated by any secret motive of aversion toward his 
enemies.” 

There was something in this protest that annoyed Victor 
Amadeus, for his eyes flashed, and his brows were momenta- 
rily corrugated. But no one knew better than he how to sup- 
press any symptoms of vexation. It was not convenient to 
evince displeasure, and he composed his features back to se- 
renity. 

“ Members of this council of war, and officers of the impe- 
rial army,” said he, with an appearance of solemn earnestness, 
“ we must act promptly and energetically. Let us prove to our 
allies, and to all Europe, that we know how to avenge the 
wrongs of our countrymen. We pass the boundary-lines of 
France ! ” 

And every preparation was made to carry out this deter- 
mination. The army was to advance in three divisions, and 
Prince Eugene was to lead the vanguard. 


THE ADVANCE INTO FRANCE. 


483 


His way lay through the mountainous districts of Savoy ; 
but, with experienced guides to lead them, the dragoons were 
able to defile through secret passes unknown to any but the 
natives, and to arrive unsuspected upon the frontiers of France. 

The peasant that preceded Prince Eugene stopped for a 
while, and, raising his arm, pointed onward. 

“ This is France,” said he. “ Yonder is Barcelonetta, and 
the towers you see beyond are those of the fortress of Guil- 
lestre.” 

Eugene thanked him, and put spurs to his horse. On the 
frontier he drew in his rein, surveyed the lovely green plain 
before him, and addressed the Prince de Commercy. 

“ I have kept the promise I made in Hungary,” said he. 

“ I remember it,” replied De Commercy. “ I had been tell- 
ing you that, after hearing of your heroic deeds in the em- 
peror’s service, Louvois had said : ‘Let Prince Eugene beware 
how he attempts to return to France ! ’ And your reply was 
this : ‘ I shall return, but it shall be sword in hand.’ ” * 

“ And we are here — my good sword and I. Nine years ago, 
I left my native country, a miserable and despairing youth.” 

“And you return a great general, and one of the happiest 
men alive,” cried De Commercy. 

“ Ay,” murmured Eugene, “ one of the happiest men alive ! 
— so happy, that methinks the contrarieties of life are so many 
vaporous clouds, that throw but a passing shadow over the 
face of heaven, and then melt into the azure of resplendent 
day. From my heart I thank indulgent Destiny for her bless- 
ings ! ” 

“Destiny that was mightier than the puny enmity of a 
Louvois ! Well — we have had our fill of glory in Hungary 
and Italy. I hope we shall find a few laurels here in France.” 

“ I hope so,” said Eugene, moodily, “ though oftentimes I — ” 

“ Why do you hesitate ? What do you fear ? ” asked De 
Commercy. 

“ I fear,” replied Eugene, lowering his voice, “ that we will 
not be allowed to pluck laurels that grow on French soil.” 

“ Do you think the French will outnumber us ? ” 

“ No,” sighed Eugene, “ the enemy’s numbers give me no 

* Historical. — See Armath, ‘‘Prince Eugene of Savoy,” vol. i. 


484 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


uneasiness : I am afraid of our own weakness. We lack the 
morale — the will to conquer.” 

tk Why surely, Eugene, you lack neither,” replied De Com- 
mercy. 

“ As if I had any voice in these councils ! Were it left with 
me to manoeuvre this army, I would lead it to Paris in two 
weeks. But, unhappily, you and I are but the instruments of 
the will of our superiors. I will not conceal from you, my 
friend, the impatience with which I submit to carry out orders 
against which my judgment continually rebels ; and how 
weary I am of serving, where I feel that I ought to command. 
You know me too well to suspect me of the meanness of a 
mere lust for distinction. Had we a true or competent leader, 
I would be content to remain where I am, as youngest field- 
marshal in the army — in the fifth rank ; but — ” 

“ But you consider Victor Amadeus as incapable as Max 
Emmanuel ? ” 

“ Max was not incapable,” said Eugene, as though speaking 
to himself. “ True, he exhibited none of those great qualities 
which distinguished him in Hungary ; or perhaps he was 
shrewd enough to perceive that no amount of generalship 
could prevail against the dulness of his German officers, the 
ill-will of the Spaniards, and the irresolution of the Duke of 
Savoy. I believe he concluded to let things take their course, 
and cause his own removal. But he, at least, was honest. 
He was not casting his eyes about, to see on which side lay his 
own interest. His countenance is a true reflex of his soul — 
and what he says, he means.” 

“ And by this you wish me to infer that such is not the case 
with our present commander-in-chief ? ” asked De Commercy. 

Eugene bent his head in token of assent, and gazed for a 
moment at the country which lay before them. “We will 
capture Barcelonetta,” said he, “ Gillestre, and perhaps Em- 
brun, provided we are too rapid in our movements for the 
duke to circumvent us by countermanding orders. We must 
strive to make retreat impossible, but we must not lose sight of 
Victor Amadeus. We must watch him closely, and be on our 
guard against — ” 

“ Against what ? ” asked De Commercy. . 


THE RAVENS. 


485 


“ Against treason,” whispered Eugene. 

“ How ! You think it possible that — ” 
tk That while the road to Paris is open before us, we never 
get farther than Embrun. Unless we are wary, De Com- 
mercy, we shall be betrayed and sold to the enemy. — But look ! 
Here come our vanguard. You can indulge your fancy for 
rural scenery, while I go to receive them.” And Eugene gal- 
loped back to his men, who received him with shouts of en- 
thusiasm. 

“ My braves,” said he, unsheathing his sword, and pointing 
to the smiling plains beyond, “ my braves, this is France ! the 
enemy’s country, which we are here to conquer ! ” 

The troops responded with a yell that betokened their 
readiness for the bloody work. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE RAVENS. 

The men were allowed an hour’s rest to feed their horses 
and prepare their dinners. Fires were lighted, vivandieres 
went hither and thither, wishing that they could multiply 
themselves to answer the demands of the hungry soldiers. 
Here and there were picturesque groups of men reclining un- 
der the trees, some chatting, some smoking, others singing 
songs of home. 

This bivouac was a pleasant scene to look upon ; but its 
peace was like the stillness that precedes a storm. A few 
hours might change these light-hearted human beings into 
mangled corpses, and dye this velvet sward with human 
blood. 

Eugene had dismounted, and, accompanied by one of his 
staff-officers, mingled with the merry crowd. Everywhere he 
was greeted with demonstrations of affection and contemplated 
with unmistakable admiration. Sometimes he paused awhile 
to chat with the soldiers, of their families at home ; often ac- 
cepting the bread they offered, and tasting of the soup that was 
being distributed by the vivandieres. 


486 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Now and then a gruff voice was heard calling out to the 
“ little Capuchin,” as the soldiers were accustomed to designate 
Eugene, through fondness. At such times, he smiled, nodded, 
and, when his officers would have chided the men for their 
familiarity, besought them not to reprove them for a jest so 
harmless. 

“ Why do you look so melancholy, lieutenant ? ” asked he 
of a young officer, who, apart from his comrades, was leaning 
against a tree, gazing intently in the distance. 

The officer appeared to waken from a fit of abstraction, for 
he gave a slight start, and removed his cap. 

“ Are you not pleased at our invasion of France ? ” asked 
Eugene. 

“ Ay, that am I,” replied he, with a bitter smile. “ I have 
long hoped for this invasion, and I thank God that it is at 
hand.” 

“ You are ambitious to wear the epaulets of a captain, I 
presume ? ” 

“No, general, no. I care nothing for military finery.” 

“ Why, then, have you longed to march to France ? ” 

“ Because I hunger and thirst for French blood. General, 
I implore you, give me a body of men, and let me initiate our 
invasion of France by giving the French a taste of guerrilla 
warfare.” 

“ Are you so sanguinary, young man ? ” asked Eugene, in 
amazement. “Do you not know that war itself should be 
conducted with humanity, and that we should never forget 
our common brotherhood with our enemies ! ” 

“No, general, I know it not, nor do I wish to know it. I 
know that the French have left me without kindred, without 
home, without ties ; and that they have transformed me — a 
man whose heart once beat with sympathy and love for all 
living creatures — into a tiger, that craves blood, and mocks at 
suffering.” 

“Unhappy man !” exclaimed Eugene, sadly. “Then you 
have suffered wrong at the hands of the French ? ” 

The young man heaved a convulsive sigh. 

“ I come from the Palatinate,” said he. “ My parents’ house 
was fired, my father murdered, and my mother driven out into 


THE RAVENS. 


487 


the woods, where she perished. But this is not all. I loved a 
maiden — a beautiful and virtuous maiden, to whom I was be- 
trothed. O God ! that I should have lived to see it ! General, 
the name of my betrothed was Marie Wengelin.” 

‘‘ Marie Wengelin ! ” echoed Eugene, with a shudder. “ I 
have heard of her tragic end. It was she that delivered Ess- 
lingen, but was — ” 

“ Marie ! Marie ! ” cried Caspar, hiding his face with his 
hands. 

Eugene kindly touched him on the shoulder. “ Unfortu- 
nate young man,” said he, “ from my soul I pity you, and well 
I understand your hatred of the Frenchman.” 

“Dear general, give me the command of a body of ma- 
rauders that shall clear the way for our army. There is many 
a man in our regiment as eager for revenge as I ; let us be 
consolidated into one corps, and where bloody work is to be 
done, confide it to us.” 

Eugene thought for a moment, and then replied : “So be 
it ; you shall have your wish. Select one hundred men, of 
whom you shall be captain, and come to me, individually for 
your orders, reporting also to myself, and not to my officers. 
I will give you opportunity to distinguish yourself, young 
man ; but remember that it is one thing to be a hero, and an- 
other to be a cutthroat. Retaliate upon the men, but spare 
the women. If, in every Frenchman, you see a Melac, look 
upon every woman as your Marie. Will you promise me 
this ? ” 

“I will, general. At last I shall have vengeance, I shall 
serve my country, and when my work is done, may God re- 
lease me from this fearful earthly bondage ! ” 

“ Utter no such sinful wishes. Believe me, there is balm 
for every wound ; and I, who tell you this, have suffered un- 
speakably.” 

“ General, my Marie is dead, and died by her own hand.” 

“ She died the death of a heroine. But for you, it is hero- 
ism to live, and so to live that the world may esteem you 
worthy of having been loved by Marie Wengelin. . Ah ! you 
are no cutthroat. I see it in the glance of your eye, in the 
tremor of your lip. You shall have command of the guerrillas ; 


488 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


for you will not be barbarous in your warfare. What is your 
name ? ” 

u Caspar Werner.” 

“ Give me your hand, Caspar Werner, and promise me that 
you will go through life with the fortitude that becomes a 
brave man.” 

Caspar grasped Eugene’s extended hand. “ Yes, general, I 
promise. I will be worthy of my Marie— worthy of your 
kindness to-day ; and from this hour forth I am yours for life 
or death.” 

Eugene gazed admiringly into the handsome face of the 
trooper. “ I will do all that lies in my power to lessen your 
troubles, Caspar, and you shall be under my own special pro- 
tection. How soon will you be able to organize your corps ? ” 

“ In ten minutes, general. ” 

Eugene shook his head incredulously. 

“ You will see, general,” said Caspar. “We are all prepared, 
and awaited nothing but your consent. Now look ! The men 
have just risen from dinner. Will you allow me to present 
them now ? ” 

Certainly. I will wait for them here.” 

Caspar leaped on his horse, which was close at hand, graz- 
ing, and galloped to the spot where the soldiers had bivouacked. 
Eugene, who was now joined by several of his staff, followed 
his movements with great interest. 

The trooper came so suddenly upon his comrades, that not 
one of them had been aware of his approach. They went on 
chatting and smoking until, all of a sudden, were heard these 
few words : “ Ravens, to horse ! ” 

In the twinkling of an eye, every man stood erect. For 
the second time, Caspar called out, “ Ravens, to horse I ” when 
their hands were on the bridle, and in less than five minutes 
they were all mounted. 

Before ten minutes had expired, the Ravens had defiled be- 
fore Prince Eugene, who- contemplated, with a sort of grim 
satisfaction, their stalwart forms, their resolute, bronzed faces, 
and their fiery, flashing eyes. 

He signed to Caspar to approach. 

“ Gentlemen,” said he to his officers, “ let me present to 


THE RAVENS. 


489 


you Captain W erner of the — th. He is in command of an in- 
dependent corps who call themselves 1 The Ravens,’ but in their 
aspirings emulate the eagle.’’ 

“ General,” said Caspar, “ give the word, and let your Ra- 
vens fly.” 

“You have it,” replied Eugene, smiling. “Yonder are the 
towers of Barcelonetta. On our march thither are two forts ; 
they would inconvenience our advance, and must be taken.” 

“ They shall be taken,” was the reply, and in a few mo- 
ments the Ravens had flown, and were no longer to be seen. 

One hour later the vanguard of the imperial army resumed 
its march. Nothing checked their advance, for the Ravens 
had carried every thing before them. Barcelonetta, terrified 
at the fate of the two other forts, held out the white flag ; and, 
by the time Prince Eugene had arrived, a procession was on 
its way to deliver into his hands the keys of the fortress. The 
clergy, in full canonicals, were at their head, and after them a 
troop of young girls dressed in white, the first of whom pre- 
sented the keys on a silk cushion, and petitioned “ the great 
hero” for mercy. 

“ Oh, my mother ! ” thought he, as he took the keys, “ you 
are avenged. The despised abbe has proved to the King of 
France that he is not a weakling unworthy of wearing a 
sword ! ” 

They tarried hut a night at Barcelonetta. On the morrow 
they captured Guillestre, and set out for Embrun, where they 
expected to be joined by the main army. 

Embrun resisted for twenty-four hours, but at the end of 
that time it fell, and Victor Amadeus took up his headquarters 
there, while Eugene marched on to Gab. He had been pre- 
ceded by the Ravens, who, in imitation of their enemies, had 
driven the people from their houses, and had set fire to whole 
villages, cutting down all who offered resistance. 

And, while they transformed the beautiful plains of Dau- 
phine into a waste, and marked their path forward by smok- 
ing ruins, they shouted in the ears of the unhappy fugitives : 
“ Revenge ! Revenge for the woes of Germany ! ” 

“ Revenge for the woes of Germany ! ” cried the Ravens, as 
they leaped from their horses to storm the walls of Gab. 

82 


490 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


But no answer was made to their challenge, for not a soul 
was there to give back a defiant word. The gates stood open, 
the walls were unguarded, and, when the dragoons entered 
the town, they found not one living being whereon to wreak 
their vengeance. So hasty had been the flight of the inhabit- 
ants that they had left their worldly goods behind, and their 
houses looked as though the owners had but just absented 
themselves for an hour or so to attend church, or celebrate 
some public festival. 

The Ravens took possession, and, when Prince Eugene ar- 
rived, he found the Austrian flag waving from the towers, and 
that of Savoy streaming above the gates. 

“You have done your work quickly,” observed he to 
Caspar. 

“There was nothing to do, general,” was the reply. 
“ There is not a living soul of them within the walls. And 
now, your highness — a boon ! ” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“General, recall to your mind Speier and Worms, and 
grant us leave to find our retaliation for their destruction in 
Gab.” 

“You say there is not a living soul in Gab? Are 
there, then, no women, no children, no superannuated or 
infirm ? ” 

“ General, every house is empty. I found but one living 
creature in Gab — a young girl who lay sick in bed — too sick 
to move.” 

“ Alone ? forsaken ? ” 

“ Forsaken, general, save by one little dog that had just ex- 
pired at the side of her bed, for its body was warm and 
supple.” 

“ And the poor girl ? ” 

“ She was dying.” 

Eugene’s large, questioning eyes were upon Caspar’s face, 
and their expression was anxious and painful. “ Caspar, did 
you remember your promise ? ” 

“ Yes, general, I did. The maiden asked for water, and I 
held the cup to her lips. I seated myself at her bedside, and, 
while my comrades sacked the town, I soothed her last mo- 


THE RAVENS. 491 

roents. When all was over, I covered her face, and left the 
house.” 

Eugene extended his hand. “You acted nobly, Cas- 
par.” 

“ Nay, general,” replied Caspar, his eyes filling with tears, 
“ her name was — Marie ! — But now, that I can assure you on 
my honor that there is no creature to molest in the town, I 
once more present the petition of my men. They ask for per- 
mission to destroy Gab.” 

Eugene pondered for a moment, and then gave his consent. 
“ Let them do what they choose with the town.” 

Then, turning to the Prince de Commercy, “I begin to 
think,” said he, “ that I have done injustice to Victor Ama- 
deus. It was he who, contrary to the opinions of his officers, 
ordered the advance to Gab. He will be delighted and sur- 
prised to hear that we have possession of the fortress already, 
for he was anxious to be with us at the siege.” 

“ I can believe it : he may well desire the honor of captur- 
ing one stronghold in France, when his cousin has already 
reduced two. — But look, Eugene, at yonder courier coming to- 
ward us — he seems to be in haste.” 

The courier came on, his horse flecked with foam, himself 
covered with dust ; and, no sooner had he approached within 
hearing, than he called in a loud voice for “ Field-Marshal, the 
Prince of Savoy.” 

An orderly conducted him at once to the prince, to whom 
he delivered a package from his highness the Duke of Savoy. 

Eugene broke the seals, and began to read. His brows 
met, and, as he looked up from the perusal of his dispatches, 
his face was expressive of extreme annoyance. 

“ It is well,” said he to the courier. “ Say to his highness 
that we will obey. Monsieur de Commercy, let us ride to- 
gether up the heights, whence we may have a full view of Gab 
and our troops. ” 

They set their horses in motion, and in a few moments had 
reached the summit of the hill. Here Eugene reined in his 
horse, and reopened his dispatch. 

“ Here we are alone, Commercy. Let me read you the let- 
ter of my well-beloved cousin and commander-in-chief : 


492 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ ‘ My dear kinsman and distinguished field-marshal : To 
my unspeakable regret, I am deprived, by a serious illness, of 
taking part in the attack upon Gab. My physicians have or- 
dered me back to Embrun, there to await the result. These 
presents will convey to the advance guard my command to 
retreat to Embrun until further orders. It is my intention 
(unless I succumb before your arrival) to hold a council of 
war ; and, to this intent, I require the presence of all the gen- 
eral officers. Hasten, therefore, my dear Eugene, lest you 
should find me no longer alive ; and believe that, living or 
dying, I am, as ever, your devoted kinsman and friend. 
(Signed) “ ‘ Victor Amadeus, Duke of Savoy.’ ” 

“ Do you believe all this ? ” asked De Commercv. 

“ Stay till you hear the postscript from his own hand : 

“ ‘ My dear cousin : You must pardon my egotistic ambi- 
tion, if I do not allow the siege of Gab to be prosecuted with- 
out me. I am very desirous of glory, and perchance your 
laurels have contributed to my indisposition. At any rate, be- 
fore you take a third fortress, I must have my opportunity of 
capturing two. So, instead of attacking Gab, come to Embrun 
to the relief of 

“ ‘ Yours, besieged by illness, V. A.’ ” 

“ I repeat my question — do you believe in his illness ? ” 

“ And you — do you believe in his ambition ? ” 

“ Why not ? He avows it openly.” 

“ For which very reason, it has no existence. Victor 
Amadeus is too crafty to make such an avowal in good faith. 
He never says what he thinks, nor does he ever think what he 
says. No, no — my poor little leaflets of laurel would have 
given him no uneasiness, had they not been plucked on French 
soil ! — But we must wait and see. The main point is to retreat 
to Embrun.” 

“ And Gab ? Will you retract your gift of its empty houses 
to the Ravens ? ” 

“No. My instructions were not to besiege Gab. It sur- 
rendered before they reached me, and I shall leave it to the sol- 


SICK AND WELL. 


493 


diery. As for you and me, we must hasten to Embrun to try 
to break the seal of my cousin's impassible countenance, and 
read a few of bis thoughts. Did I not tell you that we would 
march no farther than Embrun ? ” 


CHAPTER III. 

SICK AND WELL. 

The Duke of Savoy had taken up his residence at the castle 
of Embrun, where, as soon as the officers had arrived, his 
highness called a council of war. They were assembled in 
the council-chamber, awaiting the appearance of the invalid. 

The doors leading to a room beyond, were opened to give 
passage to a huge arm-chair on rollers, which was wheeled by 
four lackeys, to the centre of the hall. The duke’s head re- 
clined on a cushion which had been fastened for the occasion 
to the back of the chair : the remainder of his person was 
buried under a purple velvet coverlet, except his neck and 
arms, which were clothed in a black doublet, the whole costume 
being eminently calculated to heighten the pallor of the duke’s 
cheeks, and increase the whiteness of his hands as they lay 
limp and helpless on the velvet covering. His eyes were half- 
closed, and as he made a feeble attempt to survey the assem- 
blage before him, they appeared to open with difficulty. 
With a faint motion of the hand, he signed to the lackeys to 
retire, and then made a painful effort to raise his head. 

Deep silence reigned throughout the council-chamber, but 
the gaze of every man there was fixed upon the pallid face of 
him in whose trembling hands lay the destinies of four differ- 
ent armies. His dim eyes wandered slowly about the room 
until they rested on the person of Prince Eugene, who, hot 
and dusty, presented an appearance that contrasted strongly 
with that of his brother-officers. 

“ Our dear kinsman Eugene has arrived, I see,” said the 
duke, in a faint voice. k ‘ We were afraid that we would be 
obliged to hold this important council without your presence.” 


494 - 


prince EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ I hastened with all speed to obey your highness’s sum- 
mons,” replied Eugene, “ and I must avail myself of this op- 
portunity to apologize for my dress. I have just dismounted, 
and hurried to the council-chamber that I might myself an- 
nounce to your highness the good news of which I am the 
bearer. ” 

“ Let us hear it,” murmured the duke, closing his eyes, and 
letting his head droop upon the pillow. 

“ Your highness, we were not obliged to storm Gab : it 
surrendered without a shot.” 

The duke’s eyelids moved, and a flush overspread his face. 
No one remarked this save Eugene, for all other eyes in the 
hall were riveted upon himself. 

“This is very good news,” said the duke, feebly. 

“ Your highness sees, then, what a panic is produced by the 
mere mention of your name. It is a talisman that will lead 
us to Paris without opposition or loss of life. Like Caesar, 
you come, see, and conquer — and that — not by your presence, 
but by your reputation.” 

“ Your highness is too modest,” said Victor Amadeus, some- 
what recovering his voice. “ I cannot accept the laurels you 
have so honorably won. Alas ! ” continued he, “ I fear that 
I shall never lead an army into battle again ! ” 

And, as if exhausted by the thought, he fell back and was 
silent. In a few moments, he raised his head and spoke : this 
time with open eyes, and with some distinctness. 

“ Gentlemen take your seats. The council is opened.” 

The great question of the next movement of the army was 
now to be agitated. The council were divided in their senti- 
ments. Some were for rapid advance, others were of opinion 
that great discretion was to be exercised, now that they stood 
on the enemy’s territory, and that not one step should be made 
without great deliberation as to its expediency. 

At the head of the latter party stood General Caprara. 
“We have no right to trust to luck in war,” said he. “We 
must take into consideration all the mischances that may be- 
fall us in the enemy’s country, and act accordingly. Priuce 
Eugene’s advance-guard, for example, had the good luck to 
find Gab abandoned by its inhabitants. Had they remained 


SICK AND WELL. 


495 


to defend their city, we would have lost our men to no purpose 
whatever.” 

“ My advance-guard is composed of young and brave men, 
who, to avenge the injuries of Germany, have devoted them- 
selves to death ; hut they are so fearless, and therefore so ter- 
rible, that I believe they will live to perform many a gallant 
deed.” 

“ If they are not hanged as marauders,” retorted Caprara ; 
“ for my edicts against plunderers and incendiaries remain in 
force here as well as at home.” 

“ Your excellency has, then, changed your mode of warfare 
since your soldiery devastated the towns of Hungary,” said 
Eugene. 

‘‘Field-Marshal !” cried Caprara, reddening. 

“ What, your excellency ? ” asked Eugene, with a provok- 
ing smile. 

“ Gentlemen,” interposed the Duke of Savoy, “ distract not 
our councils with your personal differences. Field-Marshal 
Caprara, you are, then, of opinion that it would be perilous for 
us to advance farther into the enemy’s territory ? ” 

“Yes, your highness,” growled Caprara, looking daggers at 
Eugene. “A rapid march might give opportunity for the 
display of personal prowess, which, while it redounded to the 
credit of the few, would imperil the safety of the many.” 

“ I heartily second the views of General Caprara,” said 
General Legnaney, the leader of the Spanish division. “ If we 
march on, we leave our base of operations far behind, and 
render unforeseen calamities irremediable.” 

“ That is my opinion ; ” “ And mine,” cried several voices 
together, but among the younger officers there was dissenting 
silence. 

Victor Amadeus gave a long sigh, and, turning his head 
slowly, addressed Eugene : 

“Field-Marshal, Prince of Savoy, it is your turn to speak.” 

“I,. your highness, am of opinion that we push our con- 
quest with vigor. All the talent and strength of the French 
army has been sent to the Netherlands, and France is, so to 
speak, at our mercy. We have no obstacles before us in the 
shape of men in the field or garrisoned strongholds. As we 


496 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


captured Barcelonetta, Guillestre, and Gab, so will we capture 
every place that lies on our march. There is absolutely noth- 
ing of the proportions of a mole-hill to prevent us from going 
as far as Grenoble — nay, as far as Lyons.” 

“ The Prince of Savoy has spoken like a sagacious general,” 
said the Prince de Commercy. “ Nothing prevents us from 
marching to Lyons.” 

“ I sustain his views,” added the Duke of Schomberg. “We 
must advance. Let us promise protection to the Waldenses, 
and so foment civil discord among the enemy. To create 
disaffection in the enemy’s country is good policy — and it is a 
policy that will bear us on to Paris.” 

“We are of the same mind,” said the other officers, who 
had kept silence. 

And now ensued another pause. The casting vote on this 
momentous question was to be given by Victor Amadeus. He 
had recovered his strength in a wonderful manner, for his 
face had lost its pallor, his eyes their dimness, and his whole 
countenance beamed with resolution. 

“ Gentlemen,” cried he, as, in his excitement, he rose from 
his chair, “ to youth belong fame and conquest ; to youth be- 
longs the strength that casts away impediments, and overleaps 
all hindrances to success. Forgive us, who, being young, 
thirst for glory, and long to quench that thirst in the spark- 
ling waters of military success. Forgive me, you who are sa- 
tiated with ambition gratified, if, rather than be discreet with 
you, I would be rash with my young kinsman. I am of Prince 
Eugene’s opinion. Nothing hinders our march to Grenoble. 

I am impatient — ” 

Suddenly he paused, and grasped the arms of the chair. A 
shudder pervaded his whole body, and, with a convulsive gasp, 
he fell back, apparently insensible. 

The assembly broke up in confusion. Physicians were 
summoned, and, at their bidding, the duke was slowly borne 
back into his chamber. His head was enveloped in dam^T 
cloths, his temples were rubbed with stimulants, and, after 
various restoratives had been applied, he slowly opened his 
eyes, and looked bewildered about him. Nobody was near ex- 
cept Doctor Mirazzi. The other physicians had retired to the 


SICK AND WELL. 


497 


embrasure of a bay-window, and the lackeys had gathered 
about the door, where they were awaiting further orders from 
their superiors. All this the duke had seen at a glance. He 
closed his eyes again, but, as he did so, he made a sign to Doc- 
tor Mirazzi. 

The latter bent his head to listen, but in such a manner as 
to convey the idea that he was watching his patient’s fluttering 
breath. 

“ Dismiss them all,” whispered the sick man. 

The doctor gave no ostensible sign of having heard. He 
still kept his ear to the patient’s mouth ; then, after a while, 
he placed it close to his heart. The examination at an end, he 
went on tiptoes toward the window where his colleagues were 
standing. 

“ He sleeps,” whispered he. w When he awakes, his malady 
will probably declare itself. I will remain here to watch him ; 
it is unnecessary for you to confine yourselves with me in this 
close sick-room. Will you oblige me by returning this even- 
ing for a consultation ? ” 

‘‘ Certainly,” was the reply of the others, who were grate- 
ful to be relieved from duty. “Shall we appoint seven 
o’clock ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Mirazzi ; “ and we will hold our consulta- 
tion in the duke’s sitting-room. Our presence here might be 
prejudicial.” 

And, with injunctions for silence, the doctor accompanied 
his colleagues to the door, which was noiselessly opened by the 
lackeys ; but, before they had time to close it again, Mirazzi 
shut it with his own hands, loosening simultaneously a thick 
velvet portiere, through whose heavy folds no sound could 
penetrate without. 

Victor Amadeus, meanwhile, lay motionless in his arm- 
chair. 

“ Your highness,” said Mirazzi, “ we are now safe and 
alone.” 

The duke arose, kicked off his coverlet, and stood erect. 
“ My dear doctor,” said he, “ you must prove to me that I may 
trust you.” 

“ For thirty years I have served your royal highness’s fam- 


498 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ily, and I am ready to do so, be it with my life,” replied Mi- 
razzi. 

“ I believe you, Mirazzi ; and therefore I, who am insincere 
toward everybody else, am honest in my intercourse with you. 
Now listen to me. In the science of medicine there are many 
remedies for diseases. Are there any potions, known to physi- 
cians, that have power to produce maladies ? ” 

“ That is a dangerous inquiry, your highness ; for it re- 
gards the most tragic secrets of the craft. There are many, 
many things known to us that will produce sickness, followed 
by death, immediate or remote ; but unfortunately there are 
not as many as you suppose, that will restore the vital energies 
where they are impaired by disease.” 

“But, doctor, surely you have some way of simulating dis- 
ease without injuring the patient. Cutaneous maladies, for 
instance, must be very easily induced.” 

“ They can more easily be induced than simulated. I can 
raise a scarlet eruption on a man’s skin ; but when it appears, 
it will bring with it fever and thirst.” 

u So much the better, so much the better ! ” exclaimed Vic- 
tor Amadeus, eagerly. “ How long will the symptoms last ? ” 
“ If proper remedies are administered, they will disappear 
in five or six days, your highness.” 

“ Good, good,” murmured the duke to himself ; and then 
he began to pace forth and back the length of the apartment. 
After a while he came and stood directly in front of the doctor, 
who with his sharp eyes had been watching him as he walked, 
and perfectly apprehended the nature of the service he was 
expected to render to his distinguished patient. 

“ Doctor,” said the sick man, “ I feel the premonition of 
some serious illness. My head swims, my limbs ache, and 
cold chills are darting through my body. My fever will be 
high, and perchance I may grow delirious. Let me then use 
the rational interval left me, to make such dispositions as 
might be necessary in case of my demise.” 

“ Then let me advise your highness to get to bed as speedily 
as possible,” replied the doctor, solemnly. “ This done, I will 
call in our consulting physicians — ” 

“ By no means : I hate consultations. Nobody shall come 


THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 


499 


into n] y room but yourself, and, when you need the advice of 
your coadjutors, you must assemble them in some other part 
of the castle.” 

“I thank your highness for so signal a proof of confi- 
dence,” said Mirazzi, “ but I am not at liberty to assume the 
undivided responsibility of your nursing ; for you may be- 
come really sick, and you must have all needful attention. 
Were we in Turin, her highness your noble spouse w T ould suf- 
fer no one to attend you except herself ; but here — ” 

“ Here she shall not come ; and to make sure of this fact, 
I will write her a letter in my own hand that will allay any 
anxiety she might feel on my account. Write yourself to the 
duchess, and ask her to send my old nurse — her that has al- 
ways tended me in sickness. But I feel very ill, doctor. Call 
my valet to undress me. When I am comfortably arranged 
in bed, I will send for my secretary, and afterward for my 
staff-officers. They must receive their orders from me, before 
I lose my senses.” 

“ To bed, to bed, your highness — that is the main thing ! ” 
u Yes, that is the main thing,” echoed the duke, falling into 
his arm-chair, and drawing up his velvet coverlet. “ Now, 
doctor,” added he, in a very faint voice, “ call my valets, or I 
shall swoon before they get me to bed.” 


CHxAPTER IV. 

THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 

The news of the duke’s terrible illness spread through the 
castle, over the town, and reached the barracks of the soldiers, 
who, like their officers, received the intelligence with blank 
looks of disappointment. 

The staff -officers hastened to the castle, and some of them 
made attempts to penetrate the sick-chamber. But all in vain. 
Doctor Mirazzi’s orders were stringent, and the nerves of his 
patient were not to be tried by the presence of any man, were 
that man his own brother. 


500 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“We can determine nothing, nor can we administer any 
remedies,” said he, “until the malady declares itself. We 
must wait.” 

“We must wait,” said the duke’s physician, and the whole 
army was doomed to inaction, while urgent and more urgent 
grew the necessity for active operations. 

Throughout the castle reigned profound stillness : not the 
least sound was permitted to reach the duke’s ears. The offi- 
cers that called were kept at a distance from his apartments, 
and to all their inquiries there was but one and the same 
reply — the duke was delirious, and incapable of giving orders. 

Finally, after three days of mortal suspense, it was an- 
nounced that his highness of Savoy had malignant scarlet 
fever. 

During the four days that followed this announcement, 
nobody was allowed to enter the room except Doctor Mirazzi, 
and the old nurse that sat up with the duke at night. But, on 
the fifth day, two persons were admitted. Of these, one was 
the marshal of the duke’s household, the other was his cousin 
Eugene. 

They were received with mysterious whisperings, and were 
warned not to excite the patient. He had, in the incipiency of 
his illness, insisted upon making his will, and these two confi- 
dential friends had been summoned to witness it. 

The old nurse now joined them to say that his highness was 
awake, and would see Prince Eugene. 

“ My dear cousin,” said the duke, languidly, “ come and re- 
ceive my last greeting.” 

Eugene entered the alcove, and stood at the bedside. The 
bed was curtained in purple velvet, and the hangings were 
so arranged as to leave the duke’s face in obscurity. Eugene 
perceived, nevertheless, that there was no emaciation of fea- 
tures, nor any alteration in the expression of the sharp, rest- 
less eye. 

“My dear kinsman,” continued the invalid, “ it is all over 
with me. I die without fame ; I have fought my last battle 
and am vanquished by invincible death.” 

“ No, your highness, you have not the aspect of a dying 
man ; and I have strong hope that you will live to perform 


THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 


501 




great deeds yet. Young, wise, and brave as you are, your 
strong will may vanquish not only death, but our common 
enemy — the King of France.” 

“ May your words prove prophetic ! ” sighed the duke, “ but 
something tells me that I must prepare for the worst. I have 
made my will, and — ” 

He paused, gasped for breath, and closed his eyes. Then 
motioning to Eugene to come nearer, he whispered : “1 have 
appointed you my executor until the majority of my heir. 
Promise me to do all in your power to make my subjects 
happy.” 

“ Your royal highness amazes me, and I know not — ” 

He was interrupted by a loud groan which brought Doctor 
Mirazzi to the bed in a trice. The duke was trembling ; his 
teeth were clinched, and his hands were pressed upon his tem- 
ples. 

Restoratives were used, and at the proper time the patient 
unclosed his eyes. With a great effort he raised himself in 
bed, beckoned to the marshal of the household to approach, 
and, supported by Mirazzi, he put his name to the will. 

“ I request my minister and the marshal of my household 
to approach and witness the signing of my will.” 

They came in, and, taking up a document which lay on a 
table close by, the duke raised himself in bed, and, supported 
by the doctor, gave his signature. 

“ Take it,” said he, “ to Turin. Place it in the archives, and 
when I am dead let it be opened in the presence of the duchess 
and of my well-beloved kinsman here present, the Prince of 
Savoy. And now,” said he, “farewell. My strength is ex- 
hausted ! The end is nigh ! ” 

And with these faintly-articulated words, Victor Amadeus 
fell back upon his pillow and swooned. 

Eugene returned to his quarters in a state of extreme per- 
plexity. 

“ How is the duke ? ” cried De Commercy, who shared his 
lodgings. 

“ I do not know,” said Eugene, moodily. “ But this I know : 
we march, not to Grenoble, but back to Turin.” 

“ Indeed ! ” 




502 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ Yes ; such are the duke’s latest orders, and, as he has 
appointed no one to represent him, the army is still under his 
sole control. I told you, we should get no farther than Em- 
brun ! ” 

“But the duke ? It is not possible that be is acting the sick 
man all this while ? ” 

“Not possible ! Nothing is impossible to such a crafty, 
vulpine nature as his I ” 

“ The bulletins say that he is attacked with scarlet fever, and 
you must have seen whether he bears its marks on his skin or 
not.” 

“He has them, but — this shrewd kinsman of mine has 
many a secret unknown to such as you and myself, Com- 
mercy. Perhaps I do him injustice ; for, in good sooth, I am 
provoked, and in a humor to suspect everybody. His voice 
is very weak, and indeed, Com mercy, I would feel very un- 
comfortable should he prove to me, by dying, that I have sus- 
pected him unjustly. I must go again ; I must satisfy my 
doubts.” 

The duke’s condition was declared to be so precarious that 
sentries were stationed at every entrance of the castle, to pre- 
vent so much as the lightest footstep from being heard by the 
noble patient. He was passing a crisis, and, during the tran- 
sition, not a soul must be admitted within the castle gates. 

Prince Eugene, nevertheless, at dusk, betook himself 
thitherward. The sentry saluted him,/ but barred the en- 
trance. 

“ You do not know me,” said the prince. “ I am the duke’s 
nearest kinsman, and, unless you have orders to exclude me 
personally, I have the entrance to his chamber.” 

“We have no orders with reference to your highness,” was 
the reply. 

“Then I must pass, and I shoulder the responsibility.” 

The officer signed to the sentry to stand aside, and Eugene 
entered the castle, crossed the tessellated vestibule, and as- 
cended the wide marble staircase. Here he was stopped a sec- 
ond time, but he referred the guards to the officer below, and 
was again allowed to pass. “ I must try to solve this riddle,” 
thought he. “ The emperor’s interests hang upon the solution . 


THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 


503 


Luckily, I have a pretext for my unexpected visit in these dis- 
patches. ” 

He had now traversed the long, lofty hall ; had entered a 
smaller one that led to the (duke’s antechamber, and had 
reached the opposite end of the room, where stood two more 
sentries, one before each door that opened into the duke’s 
chamber. They had seen him in the morning, and taking it 
for granted that, having penetrated thus far, he had authority 
to go farther, they saluted him, and stepped aside. 

Eugene whispered, “ Is this the door by which I entered 
this morning ? *’ 

The sentry bowed. 

“ Whither does it lead ? ” 

“ To his royal highness’s alcove, my lord.” 

“Right,” said Eugene, laying his hand on the lock. It 
turned, and he was in a small recess which opened into the al- 
cove. The portiere was down, and Eugene stood irresolute 
before it. He felt a nervous dread of he knew not what, and 
almost resolved to retrace his steps. He thought he could not 
bear the shock of the duke’s treachery, should the illness 
prove — as he feared it would — a sham. He wondered what he 
would do ; and began to think it better not to penetrate into 
the secrets of his kinsman’s acts, but — 

No, no ! He had gone too far to lose his opportunity, 
and, ashamed of his irresolution, he raised the portiere. The 
alcove was darkened by draperies, but as soon as Eugene’s eyes 
had accustomed themselves to the obscurity of the place, he 
drew near the bed, opened the curtains, and beheld — nobody ! 
nothing ! 

“ I was right,” muttered he, grinding his teeth ; “ it was a 
comedy ! ” As he retreated, he stumbled against the little 
table, and the chink of the phials that stood upon it was audi- 
ble. 

“ Is that you, my good Annetta ? ” said the voice of the 
duke. 

Eugene emerged from the alcove, and entered the sitting- 
room. There, in an arm-cbair, before a table laden with 
viands, fruits, and rare wines, sat the expiring patient that had 
made his will in the morning. 


50 ± 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


The duke was in the act of raising a glass of wine to his 
lips. He laid it hastily down, and his keen eyes darted fire at 
the intruder. 

“ What means this ? ” asked he, in a voice that was some- 
what uncertain. 

u If I may he permitted to interpret what I see before me,” 
replied Eugene, “ I should say that your highness is merely 
carrying out military customs. We were at a funeral this 
morning, to the tune of a dead march — we return, this after- 
noon, to that of a quick-step.” 

“ I hope you are agreeably surprised to find that instead 
of being left behind, I have come back with the music,” said 
the duke, recovering his self-possession. “ Come and join me 
in a glass of good wine. I am as yet too weak to do the hon- 
ors of my house, but I shall enjoy my repast twofold, now that 
I have a guest. Sit down. My physician, having ascertained 
that what I mistook for approaching dissolution was a favor- 
able crisis, has prescribed a generous diet for me, and 1 do as- 
sure you that, with every mouthful, I feel my health return. 
Ah, Eugene ! life is a great boon, and I thank God, who has 
generously prolonged mine. I hope that you, too, are glad 
to see me revive ; the army, I know, will rejoice to hear of 
my recovery.” 

“I do not doubt their joy,” replied Eugene, “for your 
highness’s quick convalescence will spare them the mortifica- 
tion of a retreat to Piedmont. I presume you will now march 
to Paris.” 

“ My fiery, impetuous Eugene,” replied Victor Amadeus, 
with an air of superiority, “ you forget that convalescence is 
not health. I am here for three weeks at least, and by that 
time the season will be too much advanced to make a second 
invasion of France. So, God willing, we shall return to Pied- 
mont, there to prosecute the war against Catinat and his in- 
cendiaries, whom I hope to drive ignominiously from Italy.” 

“ That is — we are to hold ourselves on the defensive,” re- 
plied Eugene, bitterly. “Your highness is truly magnani- 
mous ! All France lies within your grasp, and, instead of 
taking advantage of your good fortune, you lay it humbly at 
the feet of Louis. We have it in our power to dictate terms, 


THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 


505 


while this retreat exposes us to have them dictated to our- 
selves.” 

“ Field-marshal,” said the duke, haughtily, “ you forget that 
you speak to your commander-in-chief.” 

“Yes — to remember that I speak to the Duke of Savoy — ” 

“With the head of your house,” interrupted the duke, “to 
whom you owe respect.” 

“ I accord it with all my heart. Precisely because the 
Duke of Savoy is the chief of our house, do I implore him not 
to turn his back upon the road which lies open to fame and 
renown, but to advance bravely to the front, as becomes the 
friend and ally of the emperor.” 

Victor Amadeus put his hand up to his head. “ Excuse me 
— I am not equal to the holding of a council of war, nor do I 
intend to have my commands discussed. We go back to Pied- 
mont. ” 

“ Then I must submit,” said Eugene, mournfully. “ But I 
crave permission to ask one question of my kinsman.” 

“ Say on,” answered the duke, wearily. 

“ Does your highness propose to desert the cause of the em- 
peror, and renew your alliance with France ? Ah, you smile ! 
You smile to think that I should be so unpractised in the art 
of diplomacy, as to expect a direct answer to such an inquiry. 
But I entreat you to remember, that your defection concerns 
not only your honor but mine also.” 

“ My dear Eugene,” said the duke, mildly, “ you are anxious 
without any grounds for anxiety. At your solicitation, and 
from my own convictions of duty, I became the ally of the 
emperor ; I have never reaped any advantage from the al- 
liance, and yet I have remained perfectly loyal. France has 
made me many offers, every one of which I have rejected. 
So, make yourself easy on the score of my good faith, and let 
us change the subject. To what chance do I owe the pleasant 
surprise of this visit from you ? ” 

“ I have the honor to bring letters to your royal highness 
from the emperor,” answered Eugene, presenting his dis- 
patches. “ I owe it to my relationship with your highness, 
that I was allowed by your sentries to effect my entrance here.” 

“ Of course, of course. Everybody knows in what high es- 

QO 

oo 


506 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


teem I hold Prince Eugene. Verily I believe you to be the 
most popular man in the army, and your brown cassock to in- 
spire more respect than my field-marshal’s uniform. And 
now to study the emperor’s letter. I say study , for his majesty 
will write to me in Latin, and I am no great scholar. ” 

“ While your highness is occupied,” said Eugene, rising, “ I 
will retire to the window.” He crossed the room, and, enter- 
ing the embrasure, was completely lost to view behind its 
hangings. 

There was a silence of some duration. The duke studied 
his Latin, while Eugene looked out of the window. Suddenly, 
without any previous formality of knocking, the door leading 
to the antechamber flew open, and the voice of the old nurse 
was heard. 

“Your highness,” said she, as though communicating a 
most agreeable piece of news, “your highness, here is the 
French ambassador. I — ” 

“ Peace, Annetta, peace ! ” cried Victor Amadeus. But An- 
netta was too much interested to hear, and she went on with 
great volubility : 

“ Here he is ; I passed him through. Everybody mistook 
him for Prince Eugene — ” 

“ Annetta, hold your tongue ! ” cried the duke, in a thun- 
dering voice. 

“ Ay, your highness, ay,” was the reply of the old woman, 
who, stepping back, opened the door and called out : 

“ Count Tesse, his highness expects you ; come in.” 

And, to be sure, there walked in a gentleman wearing the 
identical brown cassock, with its brass buttons, which was 
known as the costume of Prince Eugene of Savoy ! 

Victor Amadeus, in despair, sprang from his chair, and 
made a deprecatory movement by which he hoped to prevail 
upon the count to retreat. But he only looked bewildered ; 
and his bewilderment increased to positive consternation, 
when the curtains opened, and the veritable Eugene stepped 
out and surveyed him with undisguised contempt. 

“ My dear Eugene,” said the duke, in a conciliatory voice, 
“ you see how pertinaciously I am besieged by these French- 
men. Here, for instance, is Count Tesse. This is his third 


THE DUKE’S DANGEROUS ILLNESS. 


507 


attempt to force an interview with me, and he has gained his 
end by bribing my silly old nurse to admit him under the 
garb of one to whom no one here would dare deny entrance. 
Count Tesse is an envoy of the King of France, and in your 
presence I intend to show him that no offer, however brilliant, 
can induce me to forsake my imperial ally of Austria.” 

‘‘Iam perfectly convinced of your loyalty, ’’.said Eugene, 
with an ironical smile, “ and, to prove my trust, I beg permis- 
sion to withdraw. I have the honor to bid you good-even- 
ing.” 

So saying, Eugene inclined his head to the duke, and, pay- 
ing no attention whatever to his double, passed on. 

With a saddened heart he returned to his barracks. He 
was met by the Prince de Commercy, holding aloft a huge 
placard. “ The bulletin ! The bulletin ! ” cried he. “ The 
crisis is past, and the duke is safe.” 

“ We, however, my friend, are in great danger. We are 
not driven from French territory by our enemies, but by our 
pretended friends. Ah ! Victor Amadeus has this day in- 
flicted upon me a wound more painful than that of the 
Janizary’s arrow at Belgrade. He has withered my laurels 
at the very moment when my hand was extended to pluck 
them.” 

“ Then he abandons us, and declares himself for France ?” 
asked De Commercy. 

“ If that were all, we could bear his defection, for we would 
have one enemy more — that is all. Instead of which, we have 
a double-faced friend who will have far more power to injure 
us by his treachery in our own camp, than by his hostility in 
that of the enemy. I will warn the emperor, as it is my duty 
to do ; but he will be dazzled by the fine promises of the duke, 
and disregard my warning.* Meanwhile, as long as Victor 
Amadeus wears his mask, should we even wrest a victory in 

* Every thing happened exactly as Eugene predicted. The Duke of Sa- 
voy retained command of the imperial army for three years, during which he 
played into the hands of Louis XIV., condemning the allied forces to total in- 
action, until France had complied with all his exactions, when he declared 
himself for Louis, and accepted the rank of a general in the French army. 
The Prince de Commercy was so exasperated that he challenged the duke, hut 
the challenge was refused. 


508 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


spite of his intrigues, he will manage to deprive us of all its 
advantages. He will sell us to France, of that you may be 
sure.” 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 

“ Then you think that Strozzi will not recognize me ? ” 
asked Barbesieur de Louvois. 

“I know it,” replied Carlotta. “His memory is a blank 
from which every image, except that of his wife, has been 
effaced.” 

“ Does he love her still ? ” 

“ Unhappily he does,” sighed Carlotta. 

“My good girl,” said Barbesieur, trying to look amiable, 
“ pray don’t be so concise. Tell me the condition of the mar- 
quis,* at once : I did not come to this old owl’s roost for pas- 
time. I came to see what could be done to restore its unhap- 
py lord to reason. That you are observing, I remember ; you 
proved it by the good care you took of my sister Laura.” 

“ My lord, you jest ; but the flight of the marchioness has 
disgraced me. She outwitted me, and I shall hate her to the 
end of my days.” 

“Verily I believe you,” laughed Barbesieur. as he saw the 
glitter of her pale-green eyes. “ I see in your face that you 
. know how to hate. But you must excuse me if I am amused 
when I think I see you watching the doors like a she-Cerberus, 
while that sly creature was flying out of the chimney. But 
never mind her : I want to talk with you of her husband. I 
know that he was confined in a mad-house ; but, having oc- 
casion to see if he was sane enough to do me a service, I found 
out that he had been discharged as cured, and had retired with- 
in himself. Now, good Carlotta, tell me his veritable condi- 
tion.” 

“ He never has been sane since the flight of the marchion- 
ess. The morning after, when, in spite of our knocking and 
calling, we received no answer, I set Julia to watch the doors 


THE MARQUIS STROZZI. 


509 


(for I thought she was merely trying to frighten us, and would 
make her escape while we were away), and went to consult 
the marquis as to what we must do. When we returned, Julia 
assured us that she had not heard a breath since I had been 
away.” 

“ And I suppose that the marquis forced the doors ? ” 

“ Oh, no, my lord,” replied Carlotta, bitterly. “ He was so 
fearful of displeasing her that he resisted all my importunities 
to break them open. He knocked and begged so humbly for 
admission, that I fairly cried with rage. This lasted for hours. 
Finally he fell on his knees and cried like a child, promising, 
if she would open the door, to give her her freedom, and never 
imprison her again. Then he swore by the memory of his 
father that he would go to Rome and get a divorce for her. 
It was shameful ; and at last I cried out for passion, and told 
him to get up and behave like a man. But all in vain. Sud- 
denly Julia came running to say that, while the marquis had 
been lying before the parlor door, she had forced the one that 
led to the sitting-room, and that the marchioness had escaped.” 

u What did Strozzi do when he heard this ? Whine 
louder ? ” 

4< Oh, no ! He sprang up, rushed into the rooms, and be- 
gan to search for her. ” 

“ I suppose you helped, like good dogs after their game ? ” 

“ Of course, for it seemed impossible that she should have 
gotten out by any but supernatural means. But at last we 
were obliged to accept the fact of her flight, wonderful as it 
was, and we sat dow T n. Not so the marquis. He appeared to 
think that she had been transformed into a mouse, for he ran 
about, opening boxes, looking under tables, occasionally stop- 
ping to roar like a wild beast, or falling on his knees and weep- 
ing. Then he would begin his hunt again, and this lasted the 
whole day. We asked him to take some rest, and let his serv- 
ants be sent out to search the woods, but he gave us no an- 
swer, still going round and round until dusk, when he called 
for lights. He kept up his search the whole night ; and when 
the sun rose, and w T e awoke, we found him running to and fro, 
from one room to the other. In vain we pressed him to eat 
or to rest, he spoke not a word to any of us. Finally, one of 


510 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the men laid hands on him to force him to sit down, when he 
drew hack and struck him with such force that the blood 
spirted from his face, as he fell full length on the floor. The 
marquis went on in this manner for a week, each day grow- 
ing paler and feebler, until at last he staggered like a drunken 
man.” 

“ Unhappy lover ! ” exclaimed Barbesieur, with a shrug. 

“ Finally, the physician we had sent for came from Turin. 
By this time the marquis had fallen from exhaustion, and lay 
asleep. He was lifted to bed, and four men were set to watch 
him ; for the doctor expected him to be violent when he waked. 
And so he was. He tried to leap out of bed, and was finally 
bound hand and foot. After a while, came his cousin from 
Venice, who took charge of him and of his property.” 

“ Yes, to my cost,” growled Barbesieur, “ for he swindled 
me out of my pension.” 

“ The Marquis Balbi-Strozzi inherits the estate, if the Mar- 
quis Ottario dies without heirs,” said Carlotta. 

“ The Marquis Ottario will not be such an ass as to die with- 
out heirs,” cried Barbesieur, impatiently. “ He shall be rec- 
onciled to his wife, or he shall marry some other woman, and 
beget children. The devil ! He is a young man, and nobody 
dies of love, nowadays.” 

“ He looks like a man of eighty,” said Carlotta. 

“ He is much changed, then ? ” 

k ‘ You would not know him, my lord.” 

“Perhaps not, but he will recover his youth with his 
health. What does he do all day, Carlotta ? What does he 
say ? ” 

“ My lord, he says nothing, except an occasional word to 
his valet. As for what he does, he is forever shut up in his 
laboratory.” 

“ Laboratory ? What sort of a laboratory ? ” 

“ A room which, immediately after his return, he had fitted 
up like a great kitchen. When the alterations had been made, 
he went to Turin, and came home with the entire contents of 
an apothecary shop, with which the shelves of his laboratory 
are filled. I helped him to place his jars and phials, but much 
against my will, for he calls me ugly names.” 


TIIE MARQUIS STROZZI. 


511 


Barbesieur laughed. u Do tell me what he calls you ? ” 

“ My lord, you may laugh, but you would not like to am 
swer to the name of ‘ Basilisk.’ ” 

“ To be sure, ‘ Floweret ’ would be much more appropriate 
to your style of beauty, Carlotta ; but let that pass, and go on 
with your narrative. What is Strozzi about, in this labora- 
tory ?” 

“ How do I know, my lord ? He cooks and evaporates his 
messes ; then runs to his table and reads in some mouldy 
old parchments ; then hurries back to the chimney and stirs 
his pipkins — then back to the table — and so on, all day 
long.” 

“ But, my angelic Carlotta, if nobody is allowed to enter the 
laboratory, how came you to be so admirably posted as to 
Strozzi’s movements ? ” 

Carlotta looked perplexed. “ My lord, there is a little hole 
in the door that leads out to the corridor, and sometimes I have 
thought it but right to watch our dear lord, that he might do 
himself no harm.” 

“Which means that you bored a hole in the door by way 
of observatory. Nay — do not deny it ; I respect your thirst 
for knowledge. Does he never leave his laboratory ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, my lord. He writes a great deal in his cabinet. 
All his orders are transmitted in that way. Last week the 
steward made a mistake in his accounts—” 

“ To his own prejudice ? ” 

“ My lord,” said Carlotta, with a hoarse laugh, “ no, to that 
of the marquis. When he discovered it, he wrote underneath, 

‘ Two thousand florins unaccounted for. If this occurs a sec- 
ond time, you are discharged.’ ” 

u Good, good ! ” cried Barbesieur. “ Then he is returning 
to his senses. He receives no company ? ” added he. 

“ How should he ? He knows nobody, and has forgotten 
every thing connected with his past life.” 

“But you told me that he still remembered the marchion- 
ess?” 

“ As for her, my lord, he loves her as madly as ever. He 
stands before her portrait, weeping by the hour, and the table 
is always set for two persons. Every morning he goes into 


512 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


the garden and makes a bouquet, which he lays upon her plate 
before he takes his seat.” 

“ Poor Strozzi ! Sane or mad, he will always he a dreamer ! ” 
said Barbesieur. “ Where is he now ? ” 

u In the garden, my lord ; for it is almost the hour for din- 
ner, and he is in the conservatory gathering flowers for the 
empty plate.” 

“ Show me the way. I am curious to know whether he has 
forgotten his brother-in-law and benefactor.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

INSANITY AND REVENGE. 

Barbesieur followed Carlotta to the garden. They were 
walking silently down the great avenue that led to the con- 
servatory, when, at some distance, they beheld advancing to- 
ward them the figure of a man. His step was feeble and slow ; 
his black garments hung loosely about his shrunken limbs ; 
his face was bloodless, like that of a corpse, his cheeks hollow, 
his large eyes so sunken that their light seemed to come from 
the depths of a cavern. His sparse hair, lightly blown about 
by the wind, was white as snow ; his long, thin beard was of 
the same hue. 

“ Who is that strange-looking old man ? ” asked Barbe- 
sieur. 

“ That, my lord, is the Marquis Strozzi ! ” 

“ Impossible ! ” cried Barbesieur, with a start. 

“ I told you, my lord, that he looked like a decrepit old 
man,” said Carlotta. 

“ And truly he is not a very seductive-looking personage,” 
answered Barbesieur. “ But we must try if, in this extin- 
guished crater, there be not a spark by which its fire may be 
rekindled. Leave me, Carlotta. I must have no third person 
here to divert Strozzi’s attention from myself.” 

“ Shall I not announce you, my lord ? ” asked Carlotta, who 
was dying of curiosity to see the meeting. 


INSANITY AND REVENGE. 


513 


“ Not at all, my angel. Go back to the castle — not by that 
winding path, if you please, but by this wide avenue. And — 
be alert in your movements, for I shall watch you until yon- 
der door closes upon your youthful charms, and hides them 
from my sight.” 

Carlotta looked venomous, but dared not tarry, and Bar- 
besieur followed her with his eyes until he heard the clang of 
the ponderous castle-door behind her. He then confronted 
the living spectre that, by this time, was within a few feet of 
him. 

“ God’s greeting to you, brother-in-law,” cried he, in a loud, 
emphatic voice, while he grasped Strozzi’s poor, wan hands, 
and held them within his own. 

The marquis raised his dark, blank eyes, then let them fall 
again upon the bouquet which Barbesieur had so unceremoni- 
ously crushed. 

“Sir,” said he, gently, “do release my hand, for see — you 
are bruising my flowers.” 

“ Sure enough, he does not recognize me,” said Barbesieur, 
relaxing his hold ; while Strozzi, unmindful of his presence, 
caressed his flowers, and smoothed their crumpled leaves. 

“She loves flowers,” murmured the poor maniac. 

Barbesieur took up the words. “ Yes,” said he, “ yes ; ray 
sister Laura loves flowers. Pity she is not here to see them.” 

The marquis shivered. “Who speaks of my Laura?” 
said he. 

“ I, — I, her brother,” bawled Barbesieur, looking straight 
into Strozzi’s eyes. “ I spoke of her, and, by G — d, I have a 
right to call her, for I am her brother Barbesieur ! ” 

Strozzi extended his hand, and an imbecile smile flitted 
over his ghastly face. “ Ah ! then, you love her ? ” asked he, 
mournfully. 

“ Of course I love her,” was the lying response. “ You re- 
member — do you not — that you were indebted to me for your 
marriage with Laura Bonaletta ? ” 

“ Bonaletta ! ” screamed Strozzi. “ There is no Laura Bona- 
letta ; her name is Laura Strozzi, the Marchioness Strozzi, my 
wife ! Remember that, sir— remember it.” 

“ To be sure, to be sure,” murmured Barbesieur ; “ he has 


514 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


forgotten everybody but that tiresome Laura. Let us see if we 
cannot stir up his memory to another tune.” 

Strozzi meanwhile had passed on, and, with his eyes fixed 
on his flowers, was slowly making his way to the castle. Bar- 
besieur followed, though the poor lunatic seemed to have no 
consciousness of his presence. They walked on together in 
silence, until they had reached the castle, and entered the din- 
ing-room, where dinner was served. 

Strozzi went up to the table, laid his offering on the plate, 
and bowed : 

“Will you allow me to take my seat?” said he, humbly, 
while he took a chair opposite, which old Martino had drawn 
back for his accommodation. 

“ Do you see, my lord ? ” said Martino to Barbesieur ; “ he 
imagines the marchioness present at all his meals.” 

“ He must be undeceived,” said Barbesieur, roughly. 

“ I beseech you, signor,” said the old man, “ leave him in 
error ; for, if you undeceive him, you will rob him of the only 
glimpse of happiness that remains to him.” 

“ I shall make the attempt, nevertheless,” replied Barbe- 
sieur, in a tone that admitted of no further remonstrance, 
while he advanced to the table, and seated himself in the 
empty chair. 

The marquis started, and his brow darkened. “ Sir,” said 
he, “that is the head of the table — the place of the Marchioness 
Strozzi.” 

“ I know it,” was the reply, “ and, as soon as she makes her 
appearance, I will give it up. — Martino, serve the soup ; I am 
hungry.” So saying, he tossed the bouquet to the valet, and 
poured out some wine. 

At this, Strozzi sprang up, and, staring at Barbesieur, with 
eyes that glowed like the orbs of a wild animal — “ Sir,” ex- 
claimed he, “ you are an insolent intruder ! ” 

“ I know it,” cried Barbesieur — “ and what next ? ” 

The marquis gazed in bewilderment at the threatening face 
of his self-invited guest, and then, slowly turning around, 
prepared to leave the room. Barbesieur rose and followed 
him. 

At the door of his cabinet he stopped and cried out : 


INSANITY AND REVENGE. 515 

“ Let the marshal of the household see to it that no one in- 
trudes upon my privacy ! ” 

And, with a gesture of offended dignity, he entered the 
room. Barbesieur, however, was immediately behind him, 
and they had no sooner crossed the threshold than he locked 
the door, and put the key in his pocket. 

“ Now, I have him,” thought he, “ and I shall begin my ex- 
periments.” 

“Sir,” said Strozzi, alarmed, “why do you persecute me?" 

“ I want you to say if you know me,” answered Barbesieur, 
dominating the madman with the calm, powerful glance of 
reason. 

Strozzi shook his head, murmuring, “ No, sir, no. I do not 
know you.” 

“ But I know you, Strozzi, my good fellow. You are my 
beloved brother-in-law, the husband of my sister Laura, who 
forsook you so shamefully, because she did not love you.” 

The shaft had pierced. A gleam of returning reason shot 
athwart Strozzi’s face, and a faint color rose to his cheek. 

“Not love me 1” echoed he, tearfully ; “whom, then, does 
she love ? ” 

Barbesieur laid the weight of his great hands upon Strozzi’s 
shoulders, and looked steadfastly in his eyes. Raising his 
voice to the utmost, he shouted : “I will tell you whom she 
loves, and mark me well, Strozzi. She loves Prince Eugene 
of Savoy ! ” 

“ Eugene of Savoy ! ” shrieked the wretched creature. 
“ Eugene of Savoy ! Ah, yes, I remember. I hate him, and 
he must die ! ” 

“ Ay, that’s it ! ” cried Barbesieur, cheerily, “ that’s it. He 
must die ; and when he is dead, Laura will love the Marquis 
de Strozzi.” 

“ You think so ?” asked Strozzi, laying his tremulous hand 
upon Barbesieur’s, great firm arm. 

“ I know it. The very moment Prince Eugene dies, Laura’s 
heart is yours. ” 

“He must die ! He must die ! ” murmured Strozzi, clasp- 
ing his attenuated fingers, and looking imploringly into Bar- 
besieur’s face. 


516 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


“ Ay, that must he, and you are the man that shall take his 
life. Your honor demands it of you.” 

“Yes, my honor,” repeated Strozzi, “my honor. I thank 
you, sir, for your goodness to me. You are the first person 
that ever advised me to avenge myself on Eugene of Savoy. 
You are the only person that ever advised me to take his life, 
and I believe you, and trust you. Yes, sir, take my word for 
it, Eugene of Savoy shall die ! ” 

“ How will you go about it ? ” asked Barbesieur. 

An expression of cunning w r as seen to steal over the face of 
the madman, as he replied, “ That is my secret, sir.” 

“ I will tell you how to make an end of him,” cried Barbe- 
sieur, patting him on the shoulder. “ Poison him ! ” 

Strozzi gazed with astonishment at his brother-in-law, and 
forthwith conceived a profound respect for his cleverness. 
“ Did you know that ? ” said he, with a silly smile. “ Did you 
know that I meant to poison him ? ” 

“ To he sure I did, and I came here to work with you 
in your laboratory, until we concoct the right dose for 
him.” 

“ Did you know that I had a laboratory ? ” asked Strozzi, in 
a whisper. “And did you know that I was trying to find a 
brave, beautiful poison that would kill him like a pistol-shot, 
or a good stab under the ribs ? ” 

“ I knew it all, and I came to help you.” 

“ I thank you, sir, I thank you ! Give me your hand. I 
take you for my friend, and trust you. Come with me to my 
laboratory.” 

So saying, he passed his arm within that of his brother-in- 
law, and led him to the opposite end of the room. Barbesieur 
laid his hand on the bolt, but the door was locked. 

“ You see,” said Strozzi, waxing confidential, “ I keep this 
door always locked, for let me tell you, my dear friend, that 
Eugene of Savoy has surrounded my castle with a regiment of 
dragoons, who are his spies. That is the reason why I never 
talk to anybody — I am so afraid that my people will betray 
me to Prince Eugene’s dragoons. Luckily, they have never 
found out the secret of my laboratory, for I always carry the 
key in my pocket. Here it is.” He took out his key and un- 


INSANITY AND REVENGE. 


517 

locked the door, but before opening it he addressed Barbesieur 
in a solemn whisper : 

“ My dear friend, before you enter my sanctuary, swear to 
me, by the memory of my dear departed wife, that you will 
not betray its secrets to Prince Eugene’s dragoons.” 

“ I swear, my dear Strozzi, by sun, moon, and stars — ” 

Strozzi shook his head, and folded his hands reverently. 
“No, no ; swear by the memory of my sainted Laura.” 

Barbesieur swore, and the door was opened. 

“ Come in,” said Strozzi. 

“ And may all the gods of vengeance bless my entrance 
hither ! ” muttered Barbesieur, between his teeth. 

The room was as Carlotta had described it. Its long 
shelves were tilled with jars and phials, and over the chimney 
was a wide mantel, with porcelain pipkins, retorts, glass tubes, 
and flasks. 

“ Ah,” cried Barbesieur, taking a phial from its shelf, “ this 
is a precious beverage, that lulls one to sleep or to death, as 
one’s friends may prescribe.” 

“Yes— it is laudanum,” replied Strozzi. “A painless dag- 
ger, an invisible sword of justice in the hands of the elect. It 
was the basis of all the wonderful preparations of Katherina 
de Medicis. There was a woman ! Why did I not know her, 
and learn of her the precious secrets of her laboratorium ? 
From my youth, I have studied chemistry, and I had a beauti- 
ful room in Venice, where I used to work with the famous 
Chiari. But we never discovered Katherina’s secret.” 

“ What secret, dear Strozzi ? ” inquired Barbesieur. 

“ The secret of killing people by fumes, which left no trace 
whatever of their action on the body,” answered Strozzi, with 
an awakening gleam of wickedness in his eyes. 

“And you believe that there are such delicate, ethereal 
little ministers of vengeance ? ” 

“ Do I believe it ? — Why, to their agency, Katherina owed 
her elevation to the throne of France. Nobody knows this 
better than I, for my ancestor Filippo Strozzi was her friend 
and relative, and their correspondence now is in the archives of 
the family, at Venice. I am indebted to the letters of Kathe- 
rina for much of my knowledge of chemistry.” 


518 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“ And so you found out from her correspondence how she 
managed to become Queen of France ? ” asked Barbesieur, 
anxious to indulge Strozzi’s sudden fit of garrulity. 

“ I did,” was his complacent reply, while he nodded his 
head repeatedly, and stroked his long, white heard. “ When 
Katherina came to France, she came as the bride of the Duke 
of Orleans, the second son of Francis I. There seemed no 
chance for her to be a queen, for the dauphin was a lusty 
young fellow who was already betrothed to the beautiful In- 
fanta of Spain. But Katherina had no mind to let the infanta 
reign in France, so she invited the dauphin to her castle of 
Gien, and took him to her conservatory. There was a beauti- 
ful rare flower there, which had a strong perfume. Katherina 
directed his attention to it, but advised him not to hang over 
it ts>o long, as it never failed to give her the headache, if she 
approached it too closely. The dauphin laughed, and was not 
to be frightened away from a flower, because of the headache. 
Moreover, the odor was delightful, and he would not be 
warned. That day he had a headache ; the next, he was pale 
and feeble, and in less than a week, he died, and nobody the 
wiser, except Katherina.” 

“ And he died, really from the odor of a flower ? ” 

“ Yes, from a flower which Katherina had perfumed for his 
use, my dear friend. And do you know how she made away 
with Joanna of Navarre, who had guessed the secret of the 
dauphin’s death, and had already hinted her suspicions to her 
brother Francis ? ” 

“ No, I never heard of it. Upon my word, Strozzi, you in- 
terest me exceedingly.” 

“ Do I ? Well, I will tell you more, then. Katherina made 
a present to Joanna of a pair of embroidered gloves. The day 
after she wore them she was dead. What do you think of 
that ? — And did you ever hear how the Prince of Porcia died 
— he who advised the dauphin to divorce his wife because she 
had been married for eight years and had borne him no chil- 
dren ?” continued Strozzi, with increasing volubility. 

“I confess my ignorance, Strozzi ; do enlighten me.” 

“ I will, sir. The prince received a present from Katherina 
(she was a great hand to make presents). This time it was a 


INSANITY AND REVENGE. 


519 


flask of fine Italian oil for his night-lamp, which oil, in burn- 
ing, emitted a delicate perfume. By the time the flask was 
emptied, the prince had gone the way of all flesh.” 

“ And all this because of Queen Katherina’s science ? ” 

“ And all this because of Queen Katherina’s science ! ” 
echoed Strozzi. 

“ But you have not yet hit upon her secret yourself ? ” 

“ Not yet ; but I think I am on the track, and hope to dis- 
cover it in time to try it on Prince Eugene.” 

Barbesieur rose from his seat, and, coming toward Strozzi, 
struck him on the shoulder. “ Now, Strozzi, look at me atten- 
tively, and try to understand what I am about to say to you. 
I will help you to seek this pbison. Do you hear ? ” 

“Yes,” said Strozzi, with a cunning leer. “Yes, I hear. 
You will help me to seek the poison for Prince Eugene.” 

' “ Good,” replied Barbesieur. “ Now, look at me full in the 

eyes. Look, I tell you ! ” repeated he, as Strozzi’s face began 
to relapse into imbecility. “ I have found the poison.” 

Strozzi uttered a triumphant yell, but Barbesieur silenced 
him. “ Pay attention while I tell you how I became possessed 
of it. I was by, when La Voisin was put to the torture in 
La Chambre ardente , and I heard her confession. I was de- 
puted to search for her papers ; and before I delivered them 
up you may he sure that I examined them, to see what I could 
make out of them for my own profit. I found various receipts 
for love-potions, as well as for the renowned poudre de succes- 
sion of the Countess Soissons ; but of that anon. Do you 
mark me, Strozzi ? ” 

“ Oh, sir,” cried Strozzi, trembling in every limb, “ speak- 
speak quickly, or I shall die of suspense ! ” 

Barbesieur then, emphasizing each word, replied : “ I found 
a parchment on which were inscribed these words : ‘ Receipt 
for procuring death by inhalation. Queen Katherina de 
Medicis.’ ” 

“ That is it, that is it,” howled Strozzi, and in his ecstasy he 
flung his arms around Barhesieur’s great body. But suddenly 
his countenance became expressive of distrust, and his eye had 
a deadly glitter, like that of a snake. 

“ But will you give it to me ? Where is it ? I warn you, 


520 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


do not trifle with me, for you never shall leave this labora- 
tory until I have it ! ” Meanwhile he made a furtive move- 
ment toward his breast. 

But Barhesieur had seen the gesture, and with his powerful 
grasp he clutched Strozzi’s hand, and withdrew it armed with 
a poniard of fine, glistening steel. Flinging it with such force 
against the wall that it buried itself in the masonry, Barhesieur 
gazed for a moment at the poor fool whose teeth were chatter- 
ing with fear ; then leading him to a seat — 

“Come,” said he, “let us talk like men. We are neither 
enemies nor rivals ; we are brothers, having one and the same 
interest at stake.” 

“Yes, sir,” murmured Strozzi, obsequiously. 

“Well, then, look at me. Did you ever see me before ? ” 

Strozzi raised his obedient eyes and looked — for a while, in 
blank amazement. But gradually his black orbs dilated, and- 
a sudden flash of intelligence crossed his face. He breathed 
hard. 

“ I think, sir, I think you are — are — ah, yes ! I know. 
You are Count Barhesieur de Louvois.” 

“ Bight, right,” cried Barhesieur. “ Laura Strozzi’s broth- 
er.” 

“ Are you the brother of my darling Laura ? ” cried Strozzi. 

“ If you are, you are welcome, sir. Oh, if she were but alive 
to see you ! ” 

“ Alive ? What do you mean ? Where do you suppose her 
to be ? ” 

“ She is dead,” replied Strozzi, his eyes overflowing with 
tears. “ Dead — my own, my precious angel ! ” 

“ Of what did she die ? ” asked Barhesieur, highly amused 
at poor Strozzi’s grief. 

Strozzi shook his head. “ No one on earth knows, sir. She 
must have dissolved in a sunbeam, and gone back to heaven, 
for her corpse was never found here below.” 

“ Strozzi, you are mistaken,” exclaimed Barhesieur, with an 
authoritative gesture. “ Mark my words, and believe them, 
or I shall be very angry. The Marchioness Laura is not dead. 
She lives here on earth, not far away from you.” 

“ She lives ! ” repeated Strozzi, starting from his seat and 


THE AMBROSIA. 


521 


falling at Barbesieur’s feet. “ Tell me where she is. Let me 
go, let me go, and bring her home. Come — come with me ! ” 

“Wait a minute. She is living with Eugene of Savoy, 
disgracing you and me both. Before you bring her home, you 
must take the life of her paramour, and just as soon as you 
have done that, she will be freed from the spell that binds her, 
and will love nobody but you.” 

“ Ah, he shall die,” muttered Strozzi. 

“ Yes, he must die, and you must kill him. But I shall fur- 
nish the means. And now to work, to prepare the ambrosia 
that shall give him immortality ! ” 



CHAPTER VII. 


THE AMBROSIA. 

Thanks to the illness of the Duke of Savoy, the summer 
campaign of 1692 was of short duration. The allies had dis- 
persed and retired to winter-quarters ; the imperial army had 
retreated to Piedmont ; and the officers in command of the 
several divisions had betaken themselves to Turin to enjoy the 
festivities that followed the recovery of Victor Amadeus. 

Eugene had been invited with the rest ; but he gave his 
health as an excuse for avoiding the changeable winds of 
Turin, and seeking the balmy atmosphere of Nice, where, hav- 
ing found comfortable quarters for his troops, he proposed to 
pass the coming winter. 

Victor Amadeus made great pretence of regret at Eugene’s 
absence ; but, truth to tell, he was not sorry to escape the 
scrutiny of his clear-sighted cousin, who, for his part, was 
happy beyond expression in the devotion of his men, and the 
companionship of his Laura. 

Here in the peaceful seclusion of the obscure little village 
of Nice, Eugene and Laura enjoyed unalloyed happiness. The 
fishermen and sailors, that formed the principal part of its pop- 
ulation, knew nothing of the history of the grand Austrian 
officer that had come to live among them. In their eyes, the 
34 


522 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


beautiful signora was bis wife, as a matter of course ; and they 
sunned themselves in the radiance of her beauty, without ever 
giving a thought to the nature of the ties that bound her to 
the field-marshal. 

They were without an obstacle to their happiness. Eugene, 
sitting at a table covered with paper and charts, wrote dis- 
patches, and planned his next campaign ; while, on an otto- 
man at his side, Laura read or embroidered, often interrupting 
her occupation to gaze at his beloved countenance. 

As for him, his mind was clearer, his hand was firmer, his 
spirit seemed to dominate every subject of its contemplation, 
when she was by. Oftentimes he paused in his labors to watch 
the delicate outline of her sweet face, and, when their eyes 
met and they exchanged a loving smile, he felt that there was 
a communion of hearts that beggared language, and would 
have no interpreter but a glance. 

They were sitting together on the perron of their villa, 
which looked out upon the shores of the Mediterranean. The 
door leading to the drawing-room was open, exposing to view 
a harp from which Laura had just risen. Before them lay the 
boundless expanse of the ocean, blue with reflected azure from 
heaven ; and, like some soft, weird melody to their ears, was 
the murmuring of the waves, that kissed the smooth, white 
beach before them. Elsewhere all was silent, for Nature 
seemed to listen — unwilling, by a sound of stirring leaf, to 
break the delicious stillness. 

On a sudden, a wild scream was heard in the air above, and 
a vulture, cleaving the clouds, flew over their heads. Laura’s 
smiling face was upturned to reply to some loving expression 
of Eugene’s ; but when the vulture's scream was heard, she 
rose to her feet, and with a slight shudder followed its flight 
until it lessened to a dim speck on the horizon. 

“ What has disturbed you, dearest ? ” asked Eugene. 

“Nothing,” whispered she. “And yet I am a miserable 
coward. Even this vulture’s scream has startled me. It 
seems like an ill omen.” 

“ Why, my darling, why should a vulture's scream be 
ominous ? ” 

“ Do not laugh at me, Eugene ; but my old nurse used al- 


THE AMBROSIA. 


523 


ways to cross herself when a vulture was in sight, and if it 
screamed, she wept, for she said it betokened the approach of 
misfortune.” 

u Why should you share the superstition of your nurse, 
dearest ? ” 

“ Because I myself once heard the scream,” said Laura, 
growing very pale. “I was standing with my nurse on a bal- 
cony of Bonaletta Castle, and she was making wreaths of 
pomegranate and orange from the blossoms I plucked. Mean- 
while she was telling me a tale about some enchanted princess, 
to which I was listening with my whole heart. Suddenly I 
heard the cry of a vulture, the old woman dropped her flowers, 
clasped her hands, and cried out : ‘Oh, my God ! there is 
woe at hand ! Come, child, come to the chapel, and pray the 
Lord to avert it.’ ” 

“ And it was averted by your dear prayers, was it not ? ” 
asked Eugene, kissing her. 

“ Alas, no ! Not many hours afterward, I was called to my 
mother’s room. “ She lay on her bed, dying, — in her hand, 
a crumpled letter. The letter was from Barbesieur, and its 
contents were her death-blow ! Eugene, she never opened 
her eyes again ! — And oh, how she loved me — that dear 
mother ! ” 

“ Who that knows you can help loving you ? ” said Eugene, 
tenderly. “ Look at me, my treasure — look at me, and smile. 
What — tears ? ” 

“ I am thinking of my mother, dear, and of her wretched 
life. It humiliates me to remember that she, who was a saint, 
suffered so many sorrows, while I, her child, who have done 
nothing to merit it, am too, too happy.” 

“ Nothing to merit happiness ? You, whose constancy and 
heroism I could not dare to imitate ? Ah, Laura, remember 
that before I knew you. I was without hope, without trust, 
without love. You crossed my path, and then my soul began 
to soar to God ; for God is love, and he that knows not love 
knows not what it is to adore his Creator. You are not only 
the architect of my happiness, beloved, but that of my reli- 
gion.” 

Laura flung her arms around his neck, and rested her cheek 


524 : 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


against his. “ And you — you are my sun — the luminary of 
my life ! Without you, all is dark and void. Oh, Eugene ! 
be prudent, love, and beware of your enemies ; they encom- 
pass you with snares. Do not go unarmed to the barracks, for 
not long ago the soldiers saw a man following you after dusk. 
They searched him, and found on his person a poniard, and in 
his possession a purse of gold.” 

“We cannot deny that the dagger and bowl seem to be the 
order of the day, in this land of bravi,” returned Eugene, “and 
I am continually warned that, dead or alive, the French are 
resolved to possess themselves of my body. But between in- 
tention and execution there lies a wide path, and, in spite of 
prison and steel, I hope to tread it safely.* So do not be un- 
happy on my account, sweet one. Let me look in those dear 
eyes, and there read the poem of our love — a love that death 
itself shall not overcome.” 

“ No, not death itself,” said Laura, repeating his words, and 
nestling close to his heart. He laid his hands upon her head, 
and blessed and kissed her. 

“ So. would I love to die — so — resting on thy heart, and gaz- 
ing into thy face,” murmured she, her eyes filling with tears 
of joyful emotion. 

“ Die ! ” exclaimed he, shuddering. “ Love cannot die. 
Through all eternity, its choral hymn — ” 

He unclasped his arms, for steps were heard along the cor- 
ridor, and presently, within the frame of the open door, was 
seen an orderly attached to the household. Laura retreated 
to the parlor, while Eugene demanded the reason of an intru- 
sion so untimely upon his privacy. 

“Your highness, a courier has arrived, with dispatches 
from the Duke of Savoy. They are so important as to require 
immediate attention, and he will deliver them to no hands but 
your own.” 

“Admit him,” said Eugene, entering the drawing-room, 
and joining Laura, who had taken a seat before her easel, and 
was preparing to paint. “ Shall I see the courier in my cabi- 
net, or receive him here ? ” said he. 

* Eugene’s own words.— See Arraath, “ Life of Prince Eugene,” vol. i., 
p. 51. 


THE AMBROSIA; 


525 


“ Remain here, my dearest, and let me hear the sound of 
your voice.” So saying, she drew the hangings together, and, 
in the deep embrasure of the bay-window, was entirely con- 
cealed from view. Gliding back into her seat, she raised her 
loving eyes to the canvas whereon she was painting a portrait 
of her Eugene. 

“ I shall never, never catch the expression of those wonder- 
ful eyes,” said she to herself. “ This is their color, but where 
is their heavenly light ? How shall I ever transmit—” 

She started, let fall her palette, and gazed, horror-stricken, 
at the hangings. She had heard a voice, the tones of which, 
she knew not why, made the blood freeze within her veins. 
These were the words she heard : “ Here, your highness, are 

my dispatches.” Words without significance, but Laura 
shivered from head to foot. With trembling hand, she parted 
the hangings and looked out. 

There, in the centre of the room, stood Eugene, in the act of 
opening a sealed paper. For one moment, her eye rested ten- 
derly upon the beloved image ; then she glanced quickly at 
the person who stood by the door. He wore the Sardinian 
uniform, and stood in a respectful posture, his eyes cast down. 

But Laura ? She stared at his swarthy face and bloodless 
lips, the sunken cheeks, and beetle brow, with a strange repug- 
nance that almost shaped itself into some old, forgotten dis- 
like. 

“ I must have seen him somewhere,” thought she, “ and the 
dim rejnembrance of the countenance pains me terribly. If 
he would but speak again ! I surely would recognize that 
voice — that voice which sounds to my ear like some retrospec- 
tive agony of which I may have dreamed long years ago.” 

Eugene still held the paper. He had opened it, and was 
turning it in and out, with an expression of great surprise. 
“ What am I to understand by this mystification ? ” said he. 

“ Your highness,” returned the courier, “ the dispatches are 
secret, and written with sympathetic ink. If you will hold 
them over a light until a vapor begins to rise from them, the 
writing will appear.” 

Eugene rang and ordered a light. He stood smilingly, 
scrutinizing the blank pages of his letter ; the courier kept his 


526 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


eyes on the floor, and Laura behind the hangings stood con- 
templating the scene, her heart throbbing as though it would 
burst. She saw the orderly place the wax-light upon the 
table, and Eugene advance and hold the dispatch above it. 
She turned unconsciously toward the courier. His eyes, no 
longer riveted on the floor, glared horribly at Eugene ; and in 
their glance were written manifest hatred and exultation. 

For one moment Laura felt as though she were stiffening 
to stone ; then, dashing aside the curtains, she bounded to the 
table, crying out with all the strength of her love : 

“ Eugene, ’tis Strozzi ! ” And, tearing the poifeoned paper 
from his hands, she flung it at the feet of the courier. 

He sprang forward, and seized her in his arms. Eugene 
darted to her rescue, and strove with all his might to free her 
from Strozzi’s grasp. But despair and insanity had lent him 
strength, and vain was all striving to unlock his hands as they 
clutched her slender throat, and threatened her with speedy 
death. 

Eugene made one bound to the table, and snatched up his 
pistols. At the same moment, a dagger gleamed in the air, 
Laura fell back with a piercing cry. and Strozzi, kneeling over 
her prostrate body, covered her face with kisses. 

The sharp report of the pistol was heard — the murderer 
leaped up into the air, and then dropped dead upon the floor. 
And close beside him lay Laura with a poniard in her breast, 
whose hilt of diamonds rose and fell with her quick breathing, 
and glistened brightly in the rays of the setting sun that gild- 
ed the terrible picture. 

Instinctively Eugene would have withdrawn the murder- 
ous weapon from his darling’s heart, but he felt his arm with- 
held, and turning beheld Doctor Franzi. 

The doctor shook his head, sadly. “ Do not touch it,” whis- 
pered he, “ or her life-blood will gush out, and she will die at 
once.” 

With a look of despair, the wretched man arose, and beck- 
oned to the doctor to follow him to the balcony. 

“ The truth,” gasped he, while his eyes glared as if they 
would have started from their sockets. “ Must she die ? ” 

“She will die instantaneously if the dagger is withdrawn. 


THE AMBROSIA. 


527 


I am familiar with the thrusts of these Venetian bravi — when 
they aim at the heart, death follows the stroke immediately ; 
but when they strike the breast, it ensues with a gush of blood, 
at the withdrawal of the weapon.” 

“ Is there any — hope ? ” 

The doctor knew not how to shape an answer to this heart- 
rending appeal. He turned away his face, and Eugene under- 
stood the mute reply. 

‘‘ How long ? ” asked he, almost inaudibly. 

“If it were any other woman, I should expect internal 
hemorrhage to ensue within half an hour ; but the strong will 
of the marchioness will ward off death for the space of an 
hour.” 

Eugene stifled a groan. “ O God ! is there no, no help ? ” 

“None. Science cannot prevail against the well-directed 
blow of a Venetian dagger. But the marchioness will not 
suffer.” 

“ No,” sobbed Eugene, “ for she dies ; but I — I — ” . 

“ Go to her, my dear friend — go before she calls, for every 
exertion she makes will hasten the end.” 

Eugene wrung his hands. “ Not yet — I cannot. I must 
have a moment to conquer this overwhelming anguish. Go 
to her yourself, doctor — tell her — I — ” 

But the doctor was already in the parlor, and Eugene was 
alone. He leaned over the balcony and stared out at the sea ; 
the breeze had freshened, and the sound of the waves as they 
dashed against the shore seemed to mock at his agony. He 
looked above : the skies were serene and indifferent to his 
misery. The sun was setting in a flood of red and gold. 
Alas ! alas ! For Laura, it would rise no more ! 

But Eugene remembered that she had but an hour to live, 
and, shuddering, he overcame his weakness and approached 
the dying girl. She held out her hands, and smiled. 

“ Eugene,” said she, “ I long for air and light. May I be 
lifted out upon the balcony ? ” 

Eugene looked at Doctor Franzi, who beckoned to the serv- 
ants. They rolled a divan to the spot where the marchioness 
lay, and she was placed upon it, and gently removed to the 
balcony. She thanked them all for their kindness, and each 


528 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


member of her household kissed her hand, and went away 
weeping. No one now remained with her save Eugene and 
the doctor. 

“Step aside fora moment, beloved,” said she. “I would 
speak a few words with our dear friend.” 

He obeyed, and retired out of hearing, but not out of sight, 
tie could not do that. They had but half an hour ! 

“ Doctor,” said Laura, “ I must die, must I not ? ” 

“ All things are possible with God, but — ” 

Her eyes filled with tears. “ Does Eugene know it ? ” 

“ Alas, he does ! ” 

“Doctor, promise me that if in his grief he should forget 
to care for his own welfare, you will watch over it as I would 
have done, had Heaven permitted. As long as sorrow pre- 
dominates over reason, you will enter his room every morn- 
ing, and speak these, my dying words : ‘ Laura sends you 
her greeting, and bids you do all that you can to pre- 
serve your health, and to overcome your sorrow.’ Promise 
me this.” 

“ I promise,” replied the doctor. 

“ And now, tell me. Is my enemy — is Strozzi dead ? ” 

“The bullet went through his brain.” 

“May God forgive him, as I do !” murmured she. “And 
now, dear friend, farewell ! I thank you for all my happiness 
on earth, and bless you with my latest breath for your kind- 
ness to Eugene and to me.”* 

She gave him her hand, which he kissed, and, no longer 
able to restrain his tears, he went back to the parlor. There 
on the floor lay Strozzi stark and dead, his glazed eyes staring, 
as if in defiance, to heaven. Doctor Franzi had the corpse re- 
moved, and threw himself wearily upon a sofa. Presently he 
saw Laura’s Italian greyhound, with a piece of paper between 
its teeth, with which it seemed to be playing. He was watch- 
ing its motions, as people whose minds are preoccupied with a 
great sorrow, are apt to watch some particular object within 
view, when suddenly it howled, made a leap into the air, and 
fell panting on the floor. The doctor stooped to examine it. 
It was dying. 

* This attempt to poison Prince Eugene is historical. 


THE AMBROSIA. 


529 


u Why, the poor little brute has been poisoned ! ” said he to 
Conrad. 

Conrad shook his head. “ Impossible ! ” replied he. “ It 
has been with me this whole day, and came with me hither 
not half an hour since.” 

“ Stay,” replied the doctor, picking up the bits of paper that 
lay scattered over the carpet. He took them to the light, and 
held them above it. In a few moments a white vapor mingled 
with green was seen to rise in the air, and an odor of garlic 
pervaded the apartment. 

“ Come, Conrad,” exclaimed the doctor ; “ leave the room 
quickly ! Happy it is for us that all these doors and windows 
are open, or my curiosity would have cost me my life.” 

u And the marchioness ? ” asked Conrad, sadly. 

The little French clock on the mantel struck the hour. 
‘‘ You hear,” said the doctor. “ She has not a half an hour to 
live.” 

Not half an hour to live ! And Eugene knew it ! For 
above the breaking waves, above the tumultuous beating of 
his bleeding heart, even above the tones of her dear voice, he 
heard the striking of that clock. 

But one half hour ! — He was on his knees, her little hand 
locked in his, and her eyes fixed upon his face, with a look of 
love such as no human tongue had power to speak. But he 
could not bear to see her so motionless ; he feared that she 
was about to expire. 

“ Speak to me, my angel ; say thou lovest me,” sobbed he. 

“ I love thee ! ” said she, with a joyful smile. “ Ah, Eugene, 
I have spoken these words so often that earth and air, sky and 
sea, will echo them forever.” 

“ But thou — thou goest from me ! ” 

“ God has willed it thus. But, beloved, how beautiful to 
me is the death that giveth life to thee ! Ah, my sovereign ! 
lord of my heart ! weep not for her who dies as woman loves 
to die ! ” 

“ Weep not for thee ! Alas ! shall I have courage to bear 
the burden of the life thou hast purchased with thine own ?” 

“Yes, God will give thee strength to fulfil thy heroic des- 
tiny, my Eugene. We have been very happy on earth, and 


530 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


in lieaven He will perfect onr imperfect union. “ Farewell, 
beloved, farewell ! ” 

“ Oh, look at me once more ! ” cried Eugene. “ Laura, 
Laura, speak to me ! O God ! it cannot be that thou must 
die ! ” 

She made no answer, but her fast closing eyes were fixed 
upon his. He bent closer and closer, and opened his arms, 
with a vain longing to fold her to his heart. But he durst 
not ! His embrace might extinguish the feeble spark of life 
that glimmered yet for his momentary consolation. 

But his tears fell upon her face, and awakened her failing 
senses. She spoke again, and the melody of her voice was 
like the faint notes of an HSolian harp. 

“ Do not weep,” murmured she. “ I was happy. I will be 
near to thee in spirit. I — ” 

A last sigh fluttered from her lips, and the iEolian harp 
was silenced forever ! 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE EETROTHAL. 

The Duchess of Orleans sat weeping in her cabinet, and 
yet she had been several times reminded by her tire-women 
that monsieur awaited her in the drawing-room. She held in 
her hand a letter — the apparent cause of her unwillingness to 
move. 

“It has terminated as I feared,” thought she ; “her short- 
lived happiness has been purchased with her life. To think 
that her relentless foe should have had no mercy upon her 
youth and beauty ! And so it is — to the good are apportioned 
tribulation and trials — to the wicked, prosperity and long life ! 
God is merciful, and allows to those who are destined to burn 
in hell their short season of triumph on earth. But I, who 
am no saint, will avenge my dear child’s murder, by exposing 
its instigators to public scorn. My poor, darling Laura ! God 
only knows how I am to bring it about, but He will surely 
prompt the right words at the right moment. And now to 


THE BETROTHAL. 


531 


discharge the tiresome duties of the sacrifice I made to the 
shameless exaction of Louis XIV. ! Now for the act that be- 
fouls the escutcheon of France with the blood of De Monte- 
span’s bastard ! ” 

She folded her letter, and, putting it in her bosom, called 
with her stentorian lungs, for Katharina. 

The tire-woman, who had been anxiously awaiting the 
summons, appeared immediately, and approached her mistress, 
in great haste to commence. 

“ Katharina,” began the duchess, “ do not be provoked if I 
reject the magnificent attire you have prepared for me to-night. 
I cannot wear it.” 

Katharina drew back in terror. “ So your royal highness 
does not intend to appear at court to-night ? ” 

‘ I intend to appear there, because I am compelled to do 
so,” returned the duchess ; “ but I do not know that it is incum- 
bent upon me to be as gay as a peacock, on the occasion of my 
poor Philip’s betrothal to that girl of De Montespan’s. To me 
it is more like a funeral than a festival, so you may get out my 
suit of court mourning. The skirt of black velvet, the train 
and head-dress of purple.” 

“ Is the Empress of Austria dead, that your royal highness 
should wear purple ?” asked Katharina.* 

“ A personage of more consequence to me than the Empress 
of Austria is dead— an angel has taken her flight to heaven, 
and no royal princess can replace her here below. Hush, 
Kathi — you need not open your mouth to remonstrate, for my 
purple mourning I will wear, and nobody in France shall 
hinder me.” 

Katharina knew this so well, that she inclined her head, 
and went off in search of the costume, which, as Elizabeth- 
Charlotte never lingered before her looking-glass, was donned 
in less than a quarter of an hour. She returned to her cabi- 
net, and gave a quick glance at her image, as she passed before 
a large Venetian mirror, that reached from floor to ceiling. 
She smiled, and began an apostrophe to herself, after the fol- 
lowing manner : 

* At the court of Louis XIV., purple velvet was worn in the deepest 
mourning only. 


532 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


“You are unquestionably a homely woman ; and, in the 
finery that decks royalty, you look somewhat like the scare- 
crows I have seen in gardens at home. But, soberly clad as 
you are at this moment, you are not an unsightly or undigni- 
fied woman, nor would my poor murdered darling despise 
me, were she to see me now. Ah, Laura ! would that the 
battle of life were over for me, as it is for thee ! For 
the world has apportioned to me much vexation, but little 
happiness.” 

She turned away from the mirror, with a sigh. “Well, I 
may not mourn any longer. I must put on my court-face, and 
sing with old Luther : 

‘ It must be so, 

That pain and woe 
Will ever follow sin ; 

Then go your ways ’ — ” 

The duchess was singing out this doggerel in a rough, loud 
contralto, when her chamberlain appeared at the door, and an- 
nounced that his royal highness was waiting for her to de- 
scend. 

“ Tell monsieur not to let me detain him,” replied she. “ I 
will be escorted to the Louvre by the Duke de Chartres. Hey, 
Kathi ! come with my wrappings ! ” 

Kathi had just enveloped her highness’s stout, robust form 
in a cloak of purple velvet, when the little duke came skipping 
into the room. 

“ Here I am, chere maman,” cried he ; “ here is Cupid, 
ready to attend on Venus.” 

The duchess replied with a glance of displeasure, and took 
his arm. As they were crossing the corridor, she said : “ Cu- 
pid was a fractious and rebellious boy, and I remember that 
Venus had many a time to box his ears for his misbehavior. 
You are quite right to liken yourself to Cupid, for you are just 
as contrary as he — ” 

“ And just as handsome ? ” asked the duke, coaxingly. 

The duchess tried to suppress a smile. “ You are a little 
puppy,” said she ; “ and if I resemble Venus in no other way, 
I shall imitate her maternal corrections, and let you feel the 


THE BETROTHAL. 


533 


weight of my hand, if you provoke me, sir.” And so saying, 
she tumbled herself into the coach. 

‘‘I have already felt its weight,” sighed the young duke, 
“ and a right heavy hand it is, when it is lifted to chastise.” 

“Then take care not to deserve its chastisements. But 
now, Philip, listen to me, and be serious. It is understood be- 
tween us, that you refuse to sign the contract — that you avow 
loudly your aversion to marriage in general, and to Mademoi- 
selle de Blois in particular ; and that you throw yourself at the 
feet of the king, and ask for two years’ delay.” 

“ Oh, yes, maman, yes, of course,” replied Philip, hurriedly. 
“ I understand it all perfectly. Ah, here we are at the 
Louvre ! Allow me to assist you to alight.” 

And the duke, vastly pleased that the maternal lecture was 
at an end, leaped from the coach, and escorted his mother to 
the palace. 

The royal family, with the nobles and dignitaries that were 
to witness the signing of the contract, were in the king’s cabi- 
net. The court awaited them in one of the magnificent rooms 
of state. 

On a marble slab, supported by three gilded dolphins, lay a 
long roll of parchment, and close by was an inkstand of gold, 
set with sapphires and diamonds. The king was in an adjoin- 
ing apartment, anxiously waiting the arrival of the Duchess 
of Orleans and the bridegroom-elect. 

“ Methinks,” said Louis to monsieur, “ that madame makes 
me wait.” 

As these words were uttered with great severity, the duke 
was abashed, and scarcely knew what he way saying. “ Your 
majesty,” stammered he, “ you know how — may I entreat of 
you—” 

“ Her royal highness the Duchess of Orleans, and the Duke 
de Chartres,” cried the gentleman usher. 

Louis rose from his arm-chair, and advanced to greet his 
eccentric sister-in-law. Suddenly he drew back, and looked 
like a Jupiter Tonans. 

“ Madame,” said he, eying the duchess from head to foot— 
from her purple feathers to the very edge of her long purple- 
velvet train— “ madame, what means this extraordinary attire ? 


534 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Have you forgotten, in one of your fits of absence, that *you 
were invited, not to a funeral, but to a betrothal ? ” 

“ Sire,” replied the undismayed duchess, “ I am not subject 
to fits of absence ; but I beg to apologize for my dress. It is 
appropriate to my feelings, for I have just experienced a most 
painful loss.” 

“What member of your family is dead?” asked his ma- 
jesty. 

“ Not a member of my family, but a beloved friend, has 
been foully murdered.” 

“ Murdered ! ” echoed Louis. “ Who has been murdered ? ” 

“ Sire, I will tell you, but Monsieur Louvois must be by to 
hear the recital.” 

Monsieur Louvois was summoned, and while awaiting his 
arrival, Louis expressed a wish that the duchess would make 
her story as short as possible ; he was anxious to have this 
ceremony over. 

“ Sire, I shall do my best,” was the reply. — “ Ah,” continued 
Elizabeth-Charlotte, “ here is Monsieur Louvois. Perhaps he 
can tell your majesty why I am in mourning.” 

“ I ! ” said Louvois, with a defiant stare at his enemy. “ I 
have not the honor of being in the secrets of madame.” 

“But she has the misfortune to be in yours,” cried the 
duchess. 

“ Sire, a few years ago, there appeared at your majesty’s 
court a young girl of extraordinary beauty and worth. She 
was one of my maids of honor, and was as dear to me as my 
own child. Lovely, innocent, and virtuous, as she was, she 
was an object of aversion to her own kindred. She became 
ardently attached to a youth of rank equal — I mean to say, su- 
perior to hers, against whom her relatives entertained a preju- 
dice that manifested itself by every species of persecution. 
There could be no reasonable objection to the alliance, but the 
lovers knowing that, for very hatred of them both, the maid- 
en’s father would oppose their union, agreed to be married in 
secret. They were betrayed, and you will scarcely believe me, 
your majesty, when I tell you that the poor girl’s own father 
and brother deceived her by forged letters, and so arranged 
matters that they came by night, and, substituting a man whom 


THE BETROTHAL. 535 

she detested, for lier lover, they obtained her signature to a 
fraudulent marriage.” 

“ Her father did his duty,” interrupted Louvois. “ He had 
a right to select her husband, and exercised his right. I hope 
that his majesty is of the same opinion.” 

“ Madame,” said the king, taking no notice of Louvois’ re- 
mark, “pray continue your narrative.” 

“Your majesty, the miserable girl refused ever to acknowl- 
edge the marriage. The man they had forced upon her im- 
prisoned her for years, giving out to the world that she was 
insane, but holding out to her a promise of release, whenever 
she would recognize him as her husband. She never w 7 ould — 
she never did.” 

“ But her lover — what was he about all this time ? ” asked 
Louis. 

“He believed himself forgotten, nor could he discover 
whither his betrothed had been conveyed by her tyrant. Fi- 
nally by means that seem almost miraculous, she effected her 
escape, and joined him ; and, believing herself to be his spouse 
before God, they lived together as husband and wife.” 

“ I should have regarded them as such,” was the remark of 
the king. “I hope that her unprincipled relatives did not 
seek to repeat their sacrilege by any attempt to part her from 
him to whom she had veritably plighted her faith.” 

Louvois could not contain himself. “ Your majesty,” cried 
he, “the sacrilege was hers and not her father’s. She was 
legally married, and the tie that bound her to her lover was 
a crime ! ” 

Louis contemplated his own illegitimate children, there 
present, and Louvois’ words roused his ire. “ Sir,” said he, 
“ you mistake human prejudices for principles. How can you 
presume to contend for the sanctity of an infamous falsehood 
like that of a marriage ceremony fraudulently performed ? ” 

“Thanks, your majesty, thanks for those generous words,” 
exclaimed the duchess, joyfully. “They rehabilitate the 
memory of my darling, who was as pure and chaste as she was 
constant and loving. In her case, endurance of the world’s 
contumely was heroism. She felt it to be unjust, but bore it 
for the sake of her lover, and was happy. Her relatives, how- 


536 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


ever, urged by their hatred of the poor child, made use of her 
demented husband to avenge what they pleased to term their 
outraged honor. They armed him with dagger and poison, 
and her own brother brought him to the town w T here she was 
living, and led him to her villa.” 

“ What an unnatural and wicked brother,” exclaimed the 
young Duke of Maine, who had edged himself in to listen. 

The duchess gave him a grateful smile, and continued her 
story : 

“ The murderer made an attempt to poison his rival. He 
was recognized under his disguise by his wife, who darted for- 
ward to save her lover’s life. As she did so, the assassin drew 
from his bosom a poniard and stabbed her to the heart*” 

“ Horrible ! ” was the exclamation of all the bystanders. 

“ Sire,” resumed the duchess, “ the woman so foully mur- 
dered by the tool of her father and her brother, — she, whom I 
loved so dearly, and whom your majesty’s self honored by 
your attention, was Laura Bonaletta — the daughter of Mon- 
sieur Louvois, and the sister of his depraved son — Barbe- 
sieur.” 

“ The Marchioness Strozzi ! ” cried the king, turning his in- 
dignant eyes upon Louvois, who was vainly trying to effect a 
retreat. 

“ Sir,” said Louis, “ I hope you will be able to disprove this 
dreadful charge, and convince her royal highness that she has 
been misinformed.” 

“ Sire, I am not aware that any guilt attaches to my actions 
as a father. I married my daughter to the man whom I chose 
should be her husband, and I hastened the marriage that I 
might save her from the artful snare which Prince Eugene 
was laying for her large fortune.” 

“ Sire,” cried the duchess, “ the whole world knows Prince 
Eugene to be above mercenary considerations, and it also 
knows that had Monsieur Louvois not driven him away from 
France, he would not now be the most distinguished officer in 
the army of a foreign prince.” 

“Very true,” returned the king. — “Louvois never showed 
himself to have less penetration than when he undervalued 
the genius of Prince Eugene. But this blunder we can par- 


THE BETROTHAL. 537 

don, so he but clear himself of participation in the assassina- 
tion of his daughter.” 

“ That I can easily do, your majesty,” replied Louvois. “ I 
knew nothing whatever of the attempt 011 Prince Eugene’s 
life.” 

“ Then how comes it that this intercepted letter from your 
own hand speaks so knowingly of it to your son ? — Sire,” con- 
tinued the duchess, “ this letter was sent to me by Victor 
Amadeus. The courier to whom it had been confided was ar- 
rested by a vidette of the duke’s, and the letter forwarded to 
his highness. From my step-daughter, the Duchess of Savoy, 
I hold my information ; and it was imparted to me at her 
husband’s desire, that I might transmit it to your majesty, and 
Louis XIV. might hear how Louvois vanquishes the heroes 
that are opposed to him in war. Sire, not only your friends, 
but your enemies, know that you hold such warfare in abhor- 
rence.” 

“ I do, indeed,” cried Louis, “ and I thank not only Victor 
Amadeus, madame, but yourself, who have not shrunk from 
the ungrateful duty of accusing a man whom many another 
would have feared, because he was high in my estimation. I 
thank you that you have given me occasion to vindicate my 
honor from the foul blot which this man would have cast 
upon it. I say nothing of his cruelty to his unhappy daugh- 
ter, for that I leave to his Maker. But, as regards the attempt 
on the life of Prince Eugene, it shall be investigated and 
woe to him, should he be inculpated by the examination of 
these papers ! — Go, sir, and until your fame is cleared, consider 
yourself a prisoner in your own house.” 

Pale and trembling, Louvois retreated from the royal pres- 
ence. Around the door of the cabinet were groups of high- 
born dames and titled lords, who all drew back to let him pass. 
No one wished to breathe the atmosphere that was tainted by 
the presence of a suspected murderer ; and the rumor of his 
disgrace spread so rapidly through the palace, that it reached 
the room where the court was assembled, and every man 
there turned his back upon the favorite who, an hour before, 
had been greeted with courtesy and respect by the proudest 
nobles in the land. 

35 


538 


PRINCE EUGENE AND IIIS TIMES. 


The king's eyes followed the bowed figure of his fallen 
minister until it passed out of sight ; then, as if nothing had 
happened, he smilingly addressed the Duchess of Orleans : 

u Madame, will you take the bride by the hand ? I, myself, 
will escort the bridegroom.” 

Elizabeth-Charlotte, who, in her sorrow for the tragical 
death of Laura, had forgotten the occasion of her coming, gave 
a sudden start, and her heart died within her. She turned 
her sharp eyes with a searching look upon the Duke de Char- 
tres, hoping for some significant glance that would reassure 
her as to his intentions. But the young duke’s eyes were 
turned another way : he was following the master of ceremo- 
nies, and making a profound inclination before the king. 

Madame dared no longer hesitate : she gave her hand to 
Mademoiselle de Blois, and led her forward to the table where 
lay the dreaded document. 

At a signal from the king, the keeper of the seal advanced, 
and, taking up the parchment, read the marriage contract of 
his royal highness the Duke de Chartres with Mademoiselle de 
Blois. The duke’s marriage with the king’s daughter entitled 
him to the grandes entrees du cabinet , and the entrees de der- 
riere ,— privileges highly prized by the members of the royal 
family. The contract also recognized Mademoiselle de Blois as 
a daughter of France, and gave her a dowry of two millions 
of livres, several large estates, and a complete parure of costly 
diamonds. 

With the exception of madame, everybody was enraptured 
with the royal munificence. Again she tried to meet her son’s 
eyes, but they were steadfastly fixed upon the hand of the 
king who had signed the contract, and was in the act of plac- 
ing it before his daughter. 

Mademoiselle de Blois scribbled her name under that of her 
father, and passed the pen over to the bridegroom. The de- 
cisive moment was at hand. With fast-throbbing heart, the 
duchess bent forward to hear her son’s rejection of this insult- 
ing mesalliance, when lo ! that son, with a placid smile, ac- 
cepted the pen, and signed ! 

A cry had well-nigh burst from his mother’s lips, as, with 
every show of respect, he presented her the pen. Speechless 


VENGEANCE. 


539 


with anger, she advanced her hand, but it was not to take the 
instrument of her humiliation : it was to administer to her re- 
bellious son a box on the ear which resounded like a pistol- 
shot through the apartment, and created considerable astonish- 
ment among the aristocratic guests therein assembled.* 

The young duke uttered a howl, and, rubbing his cheek, 
jumped behind the hooped dress of his bride-elect. 

“ Madame ! ” exclaimed the king, “ what means this vio- 
lence ? ” 

“ Your majesty, I was killing a fly that had lit upon Philip’s 
cheek. ” 

“ It must be a robust fly, if it is not crushed to atoms,” re- 
plied the king, much amused. 

The court, unable to withstand their merriment, burst into 
one simultaneous shout of laughter, under cover of which 
Elizabeth- Charlotte, with tearful eyes, signed the fatal docu- 
ment which mingled the noble blood of Orleans with the 
muddy stream of illegitimacy. 


CHAPTER IX. 

VENGEANCE. 

So great had been the haste of the courtiers to spread the 
news of Louvois’ disgrace, that the very usher who opened the 
door that led into the vestibule, performed his office with a 
superciliousness which proved him to have heard it as well as 
his betters. 

Louvois felt as if his grave were yawning before him. He 
had forgotten that his carriage could not possibly have re- 
turned so soon ; and now he stood alone on the perron of the 
palace, staring up and down the street in the vain hope of con- 
cealing himself in a fiacre from the gaze of the curious. No 
sentinel saluted him, no soldier presented arms, as, ashamed 
of his rich dress and sparkling orders, which rendered him 

* Historical. — See “Letters of the Duchess of Orleans to the Princess of 
Wales.” 


54:0 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


conspicuous, lie walked on and on, an object of curiosity to 
every passer-by. At length, on the Pont Neuf, he met a dilap- 
idated old hackney-coach, amid whose threadbare cushions 
he was glad to retreat from observation. 

On his arrival home, nobody came out to assist him to 
alight ; for how could the lackeys who were idling around the 
porte-cochere surmise that the occupant of that shabby vehicle 
was their haughty master ? 

He entered the hotel, and, without vouchsafing a word to 
the astounded valets, ascended the staircase that led to his own 
private apartments. But they came after him to ask whether 
he was indisposed, and whether they could be of service. 

Their offers were rejected with scorn ; but Louvois thought 
it politic to inform his own valet that, having been attacked 
with sudden indisposition, he had been forced to leave the 
court-ball, and return in a fiacre. While he was being divest- 
ed of his rich dress and long curled wig, the valet went on to 
announce that Count Barbesieur had arrived from Italy, and 
was desirous of seeing his father as soon as possible. A lady 
also had called to see his excellency ; and, having been told 
that he was at the great court-festival, she had replied 
that he would be apt to return home early, and she would 
await his arrival, for she had important business to transact 
with him. 

“ Where is the lady ? ” asked Louvois. 

“ She is in her carriage at the side door of the hotel. Shall 
I ask her in the drawing-room, your excellency ? ” 

“ Later,” said Louvois. “ I must first speak with my 
son.” 

“ I am here,” cried Barbesieur, who had silently entered the 
room. 

“ Leave us,” said Louvois to the valet, “ and when Count 
Barbesieur has retired, admit the lady. I — ” 

He paused, and caught at the arm-chair for support. He 
had become suddenly dizzy, his face grew scarlet, his eyes 
blood-shot, and his breathing oppressed. 

The valet hastened to his assistance, and offered him a glass 
of water. He emptied it at a draught, but his hands shook so, 
that he could scarcely hold the goblet. Barbesieur had thrown 


VENGEANCE. 


541 

himself full length on a sofa, whence he contemplated his 
father with the most consummate indifference. 

“You ought to be bled,” said he, carelessly. 

“ I will do so. It may relieve me,” replied he, panting. 
“ Go,” added he to the valet, “ go for Fagot.” 

The valet hurried off, and the father and son were left 
alone together. The former lay gasping with his head flung 
back on a cushion ; the latter watched him closely, but with- 
out the merest appearance of sympathy or interest. 

After a pause, he spoke : “ Father, have you forgotten my 
presence ? ” 

Louvois opened his eyes wearily. “ No ; I have not forgot- 
ten it.” 

“ You do not ask me about the result of my expedition,” 
said Barbesieur. 

“ Nor do you seem to think it incumbent upon you to ask 
wherefore I suffer, or why I am here instead of being where I 
ought to be, at the fiangailles of Mademoiselle de Blois,” re- 
plied Louvois, whom his son’s indifference had stung to return- 
ing energy. 

“ What care I for the fiangailles of Mademoiselle de Blois ? ” 
answered Barbesieur. “ And as regards your indisposition, it 
is not the first time that I have seen you similarly affected. 
These congestions invariably leave you stronger than they find 
you ; so let us pass on to affairs more momentous. I have 
to inform you that my expedition to Italy has resulted in a 
disastrous failure. Have you seen my courier ?” 

“ No, I have not seen him, but I know that you were guilty 
of sending me written dispatches on a subject which pen 
should never have recorded.” 

“ Oh ! ” sneered the dutiful son, “ you are better, I see, for 
you grow abusive. Then I suppose my courier has been ar- 
rested ? ” 

“ Ay, and your letters are in the hands of Louis XIV.” 

“ Can it be possible ? ” cried Barbesieur, anxiously. “ How 
came he in possession of them ? ” 

“ They were given him by the Duchess of Orleans.” 

w But she — ” 

“ She received them from her step-daughter, the Duchess of 


542 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


Savoy. Not only them, but your imbecile-written promise to 
Strozzi that his wife would return to him as soon as Prince 
Eugene was dead.” 

“ It was a blunder, I admit,” returned Barbesieur. “ But the 
idiot had so set his heart upon it that I was forced to yield to 
his whims ; there was no other way of controlling him. I had 
no sooner given him this paper, than he became as plastic as 
clay.” 

“Nevertheless, Laura is dead, and Eugene of Savoy lives.” 

“Oh, yes — the thing miscarried, but how, I cannot con- 
ceive. I was close at hand, waiting with horses for Strozzi, 
who was to seize Laura, and make all speed for Italy. I 
waited so long, that at last I ventured to creep up to the house, 
and there I learned how Strozzi had stabbed Laura, and Eu- 
gene had shot Strozzi. As soon as I found out that all had 
gone awry, I galloped off to Bonaletta, to get my share of 
Strozzi’s and Laura’s property. But the covetous relations 
would not let me lay a finger on Laura’s estates, without your 
written authorization. That brought me hurriedly to Paris. 
I want it at once, that I may return to Bonaletta to-day.” 

“ You must remain for a while longer,” said Louvois. 

“ And why, pray ? ” 

“ Because you must at least wait until my funeral is over,” 
replied the unhappy father. 

Barbesieur began to laugh. “ Oh, papa ! pray don’t get 
sentimental. People are not apt to die of these little vex- 
ations. I suppose the king was rude, as he has been many a 
day before this — was he ? ” 

“ He was more than rude ; in presence of all his nobles he 
accused me of participation in Laura’s murder, and banished 
me from court until I returned with proofs of my innocence.” 

“ H’m — ” muttered Barbesieur. “ The affair looks ugly.” 

“ Insulted before the whole court,” murmured Louvois. 

“ Pshaw ! Don’t take it so much to heart. It is not your 
first affront. You know full well that if old women get the 
better of you to-day, you will outwit them to-morrow. Wit- 
ness your feud of years with De Maintenon.” 

“ I shall not outwit them this time, Barbesieur. The duch- 
ess has played her cards too dexterously for me to escape. 


VENGEANCE. 


543 


Nor would the king befriend me ; he is under too many ob- 
ligations to me not to desire my humiliation and my ruin. 
Moreover, he is anxious to propitiate the Duke of Savoy, and 
will give him full satisfaction for the attempt on the life of 
his kinsman. I am lost — irretrievably lost ! ” 

u Then so much the more imperative is it for us to lay the 
foundation of some new structure of fortune elsewhere. — 
Luckily, Laura’s large estates in Italy are all-sufficient to 
make you a very rich man yet. So give me authority to act 
for you ; I will go at once and take possession, while you ar- 
range your affairs at home, and then follow me to Italy.” 

“ He thinks of nothing but wealth,” murmured Louvois ; 
“ he has no shame for loss of reputation or good name.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” said Barbesieur, with a coarse laugh ; “ no 
man that has money loses reputation. Poverty is the only 
crime that the world cannot pardon, and you, thanks to the 
Marchioness Bonaletta, have just inherited a fortune.” 

Louvois shuddered. “A fortune through the murder of 
• my child ! ” 

“ For which we are not accountable,” said Barbesieur, care- 
lessly. “ We owe that obligation to Strozzi, and I must say it 
was the only sensible thing I ever knew him to do.” 

“ Silence ! ” cried Louvois, incensed. “ If you have no re- 
spect for the living, have some reverence for the dead ! ” 

Barbesieur rose with a yawn. “ I see that my honored 
father is not in a mood for reasonable conversation. Here 
comes the surgeon with his lancet. Perhaps, when you have 
lost a few quarts of your bad blood, you may see things in a 
better light.” So saying, he sauntered out of the room. With 
scorn and hatred in his eye, Louvois watched him until he 
disappeared from sight ; then turning to the surgeon, who had 
entered by another door — 

“ Be quick, and take some blood from my veins, or I shall 
suffocate ! ” 

A half an hour later, the operation was over, and Louvois 
felt much relieved. His face was pale, his eyes no longer 
bloodshot, and the surgeon having prescribed rest, the dis- 
graced favorite was left alone. 

He sat propped up in his arm-chair, staring at vacancy— 


544 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


his solitude embittered by the recollection of what be was, and 
what be had been. The stately edifice of greatness, which he 
had spent a lifetime in erecting, had fallen like a chdteau de 
cartes , leaving nothing behind hut the stinging recollection of 
a glorious past. He could not outlive it — he could not retire 
to obscurity — he — 

Suddenly he shivered, and gazed with eyes distended at the 
figure of a woman that now stood against the portiere op- 
posite. Great God ! had delirium seized upon his senses ? 
Were the memories of his youth about to take shape and form, 
and mingle their shadowy images with the tangible realities 
of life ! He knew her — tall, beautiful, pale as she was — and 
the recognition filled him with terror indefinable. 

He knew her well ! In her youth he had loved her, but 
she had scorned his love, because she was cherishing the hope 
of becoming Queen of France ! This triumph had been denied 
her, and she had hidden her disappointment by a marriage 
with another. And fearfully had Louvois avenged her rejec- 
tion of his love ! He had cited her as a criminal, before the* 
highest tribunal in France, and had driven her into exile. 
Destiny had also given him power to crush her son — to blast 
his life as a lover, and his good name as a man. But ah ! that 
daughter whom Eugene had loved ! He had blasted her life 
also, and had given her over to a monster that had murdered 
her ! So young, so lovely, so attractive ! She had died to 
gratify the malice of her own father ! 

Like a lightning-flash these thoughts glanced athwart 
his brain, while, breathless and terror-stricken, he gazed upon 
the spectre that stood against the portiere ! 

Was it a spectre, or some delusion of his disordered mind ? 
She stood motionless as a marble statue of Nemesis ; but those 
eyes — those glowing eyes — there was life and hate in their 
fiery depths ! 

Louvois had not the power to look away ; he was as spell- 
bound as a bird under the glance of the basilisk. 

“ Olympia ! ” cried he, at last, with a supreme effort to dis- 
solve the spell. 

She threw back her proud head, and came directly in front 
of his chair. “ You recognize me,” said she, in tones of icy 


VENGEANCE. 


545 


hauteur. “ I was waiting before I spoke, to see whether you 
had forgotten me.” 

“ What brings you hither ? ” stammered he, confusedly. 

“ Destiny,” replied she, sternly. “ Louvois, God is just, for 
He has chosen me to be the instrument of your destruction. I 
was travelling through Turin to nurse my son, w T ho was not 
expected to live. I learned that his illness was of the heart — 
not of the body. His Laura had been murdered before his 
eyes, and, for love of her, he was in danger of dying. Ah, 
Louvois ! it was the second time you had almost robbed me of 
my child ! But God is just ! To my hands were confided the 
proofs of your participation in the crime of your daughter’s 
assassination, and it was I that delivered them to the Duchess 
of Orleans. She had her Laura’s death to avenge, I — great 
God ! what had I not ? The humiliation of my flight from 
France — my persecution by strangers in a foreign land — my 
son’s lifelong sorrow ! — But ah ! you, that drove him from his 
native country, have fallen, to rise no more, while Eugene’s 
name is but another word throughout the world for genius 
and valor.” 

Louvois’ teeth chattered with fear. He raised his hand, as 
if to implore forbearance. She gave him, in return, a look of 
scorn. 

“ All Paris rings with your disgrace. The populace are be- 
fore your windows, ready, at a signal, to assault your palace, 
as, at your son’s instigation, they once assailed mine. Your 
servants are stealing away, and you are forsaken ! Poor, 
fallen, powerless Louvois ! ” 

“ Not so,” screamed Louvois, “ not so ! If I am powerless 
it is because I am dying ! ” And, with a passionate gesture, 
he tore the bandages from his arm. 

The blood gushed out like water from a fountain, and 
Olympia looked on for a while in cruel enjoyment of her 
enemy’s mortal agony. But her hatred was unclouded by 
passion. 

“ It were a kindness to suffer you to die now,” said she ; 
and her words fell like sharp icicles upon his poor, lacerated 
heart. “But you shall live to endure the contumely you 
forced upon me and mine ! Farewell ! I go to call for help.” 


546 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


She crossed the room, and, as she entered the antechamber, 
Louvois swooned, and fell upon the floor. 

Go to your lord,” said Olympia to the valets who were 
waiting. “The bandage has become loosened, and he will 
bleed to death if you are not prompt.” 

Crossing the antechamber, she opened the door that led to 
a corridor where her own valet was awaiting her return. 

“ Can you tell me where I may find Count Barbesieur ? ” 
asked she. 

“ Yes, my lady. He is in his own room, to which I was 
directed by his valet.” 

“ Show me the way,” said the countess, following the man 
to the farther end of the long corridor. 

“ Here, my lady,” said he, pausing, “ is his anteroom.” 

“ Go in and announce me.” 

The valet opened the door and crossed the antechamber. 
It was empty ; for Barbesieur’ s valet was, with the other serv- 
ants, in the vestibule, discussing the mysteries of the evening. 
Seeing that no one was there to announce the countess, the 
lackey knocked until he heard a voice from within. He then 
threw the door wide open, and cried out — 

“ The Countess de Soissons ! ” 

Barbesieur, who was seated before a table, deep in the ex- 
amination of the title-deeds of the Bonaletta estates, started up 
in amazement at the unceremonious interruption. As he 
turned around to chastise the insolence of the servant, he en- 
countered the stately figure of the Countess de Soissons, 

“ It is long since we met,” said she. “ Do you remember 
the occasion of our meeting ? ” 

“ No, countess,” replied he, awed by her queenly bearing 
into momentary courtesy. 

“ I will refresh your memory. When last I saw you, you 
were at the head of the rabble that mobbed the Palace de Sois- 
sons, and had just received a wound in your arm from the pis- 
tol of my son, Prince Eugene. I had not the satisfaction of 
being present at the horsewhipping he administered to you at 
Long Champs, for I was obliged to fly from your persecutions, 
and I have never set foot in Prance until now.” 

Barbesieur laughed. “ I have had my revenge. I owe him 


VENGEANCE. 


547 


nothing. The very grief that is sapping his life at this mo- 
ment is the work of my hand.” 

a I know it, and I, in my turn, have avenged his woes.” 

“ You must have done it secretly, then, for I have never 
felt any inconvenience from your vengeance.” 

“ You will experience it before long. Did one of your serv- 
ants bring you a fine peach on a salver, about half an hour 
ago ? ” 

Barbesieur turned very pale, and stammered, “Yes.” 

“ Did you eat it ? ” 

“ Yes,” murmured he, “I did.” 

“ Then, Barbesieur, that peach avenged Eugene and Laura 
both. I sent it to you.” 

“ You ! ” cried Barbesieur, with a shudder. 

“ Yes,” replied Olympia, her black eyes darting fire as she 
spoke. “ I sent you the peach, and if you have eaten it (it will 
be very slow in its effects), you have just four years longer to 
live ! ” 

As he heard these terrible words, Barbesieur dropped, like 
a felled ox, to the floor. 

“Count Barbesieur,” cried a voice in the antechamber, 
“ your father is dying of apoplexy.” 

Barbesieur started up with an oath, and darted from the 
room. The Countess de Soissons followed him to the corridor. 
No one was there, for the servants had all congregated, as near 
as possible, to the chamber of the dying statesman. Olympia 
passed on, unchallenged, reached her carriage, and set off at 
full gallop for Nice. 

She found Eugene improved, and sitting up. He was in 
his arm-chair, gazing with tearful eyes at a portrait opposite — 
a portrait of Laura, as Sister Angelica. His thoughts were so 
far, far away from the weary present, that the door had opened, 
and his mother had put her arms around his neck, before he 
became aware of her entrance. 

“ Eugene, my beloved son,” said she, “ I have avenged you.” 

u Avenged ? Dear mother, what can you mean ? ” 

“I mean that Louvois is dead — dead of humiliation. And 
that Barbesieur lives ; but lives in the knowledge that, in four 
years, he must die. His life, then, unto the bitter end, will be 


548 


PRINCE EUGENE AND HIS TIMES. 


one long agony. Eugene, you avenged my wrongs. I have 
now paid the debt.” 

Eugene sighed heavily. “ You have erred, mother. You 
should have left further vengeance to God. What does it 
profit me that Barbesieur suffers — his sufferings cannot recall 
my Laura.” 

“ Ah,” said Olympia, disappointed, “ if you were in health, 
you would not be so pusillanimous, my child. ’Tis easy to see 
that you are sick.” 

‘‘No, mother, I am no longer sick. At Laura’s command, 
I have wrestled with bodily weakness, and have overcome it.” 

“ I do not understand you, my son.” 

Eugene pointed to the figure of Doctor Franzi, who just 
then entered the room. “ Listen, mother, and you will under- 
stand.” 

The doctor advanced, and, taking Eugene’s extended hand, 
repeated Laura’s dying words. Eugene looked at his mother, 
and smiled. 

“ This message has been the medicine that has restored me 
to health. My Laura speaks from beyond the grave, and I 
must obey.” 

“Who but a hero could have obeyed a mandate at once so 
loving and so cruel ! ” exclaimed Doctor Franzi. “ Countess, 
I am rejoiced to see you, but more especially rejoice that you 
should have arrived to-day.” 

“I travelled night and day to return in time,” said Olym- 
pia, looking fondly at her son. 

“ Is it a festival ? ” asked he. 

“Yes, dear child,” replied his mother, kissing him. “It is 
your thirtieth birth-day.” 

“My thirtieth birth-day!” murmured Eugene. “My 
youth is no more ; I enter upon the stern epoch of mature 
manhood.” 

“ Youth, with its sweet visions of love, has passed away ; 
but manhood will indemnify you, prince, for the sorrows of 
the past. Before you lies a future of usefulness and heroism. 
— Congratulate your son, countess, for he yesterday received 
from the Emperor Leopold the chief command of his armies 
in Italy. The troops are on their way now, to greet their gen- 


VENGEANCE. 


549 


eral. Hark ! Do you not hear the drums ? Every brave 
heart in the army is beating with joy at the prospect of seeing 
him again.” 

“ And I, too, am joyful at the anticipation,” replied Eugene, 
rising from his chair. “ You are right, Franzi. I have been 
sorely grieved, ’tis true ; but I bear about my heart the knowl- 
edge of my Laura’s love — as veritable now as when I saw and 
felt her mortal presence. This blessing shall make me a hero. 
So help me God I I will strive hereafter to do my duty as a 
man, a soldier, and a Christian.” 

The drums rolled, the trumpets sounded, and thousands of 
voices responded without : 

“ Long live our general ! Long live Prince Eugene ! ” 


THE END. 





























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